The Chit
by Anjanas
Summary: All those deemed outside Wizarding society are required to find a spouse. Hermione Granger is terrified. Cooped up inside 12 Grimmauld Place, she makes a list, and Severus observes her attempts. A Marriage Law story. Hermione Granger/Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1: The Times they are a-Changin'

_Authors Note: None of the characters portrayed belong to me, and I'm not making any money from them. This is my first published fan-fiction so I may fail badly on the etiquette, publishing technique, spell checking etc. Please forgive, review and guide as necessary. Much love to any who find themselves here. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed imaging it up._

 **Chapter 1: The Times they are a-Changin'**

The Chit was staring at a piece of parchment on her lap. She hadn't reacted when he'd entered the lab, hadn't raised her head and done her usual half-smile. She wasn't working on a potion or checking the inventory. It was enough to make a man worry.

Severus was in no mood to add to his worries. The Dark Lord had been rather… jubilant last night. He'd been allowed to leave his Lord around 3am, and unfortunately Dumbledore had rules in place. Immediately report, were the rules - unless Severus first stopped off to pick up a Pain Relief potion. So, with a sigh, he'd turned his feet towards the Headmaster's offices. There, with only a cup of tea to console him, he'd explained his concerns and suspicions. By the time they'd done working through the various scenarios it was 8am and he gave up on the idea of sleep. May as well get some brewing done.

His mind was still very much wrapped up in the Headmaster's theories as he stared at the Chit. Her hand was shaking and… was she chewing her fingernails? Disgusting.

He felt his anger wash over him. How dare she put her worries in front of the work they had before them? How dare she pick today, of all days, to slack off?

"Miss Granger!" He snapped, banging a cauldron onto the wooden desk. She blinked, but didn't jump.

"Oh, Professor."

Her voice was weak and tired and he suddenly realised that she was wearing the same robes today as she had been yesterday. Worry crystallised in his gut, shards that dug into the soft lining of his stomach.

"What is it, Granger?"

She didn't look up from her lap even as she brandished the parchment towards him. A flick of his wrist and the letter sailed across the room, rustling as it came to a stop in his palm.

The parchment was heavy and almost black with ink, small, fine letters scrawled all over it. "MINISTRY NOTICE: DO NOT IGNORE" was repeated in red ink at the top of every page. He heard the Chit whimper as his eyes scanned the rest of the letter, a frown growing between his brows. This was… an unexpected development. Severus' lack of sleep was catching up to him.

"Granger, you can take the rest of the day off." He snapped, remembering that she was still in the room. She made an odd, strangled noise, but didn't move a muscle. She practically vibrated with fear. "Miss Granger." He repeated, slowly, keeping his voice deliberately soft and gentle. "You are free to go back to your rooms."

"Please, sir. I'd much rather stay here with you. We still have 50 more healing potions to make before we've even reached halfway to Madam Pomfrey's needs."

He ran his fingers through his hair, shifting the fringe away from his face, and studied her. All the blood had drained from her face and her hands were still shaking, the fingers tapping together with the force of her fear.

"Get started then. I will return in a moment." He scowled at her, suddenly impatient. Severus had thought himself in the Dark Lord's inner circle, and yet it was clear that this had been deliberately kept from him. Could it be a test of his loyalties? His stomach cramped again, urgent and sharp.

He stalked out of the dingy basement, the cloak he hadn't bothered to take off billowing in his wake, and took the steps two at a time into the light of the hallway, throwing open the library door with a bang. Damnit. He hadn't seen this one coming at all.

"Albus." He growled, flinging Floo powder into the flames. "I hope you're up."

..

Albus had indeed been up. He'd taken the parchment with trembling hands and studied the words cramped on it, the fine details of the new law taking up almost every spare inch of paper as though the Ministry were under another Extreme Budget Cutting Initiative. "This is terrible." Albus growned, stroking his beard pensively.

Severus refrained from snapping at him, his anger fraying under the Headmaster's ridiculous penchant for stating the bleeding obvious.

Albus' eyes had turned milky as he stared over Severus' head at the silent portraits of former Heads. "The poor students… What can we do?"

Severus took a sip of his tea rather than replying, knowing that the question was rhetorical.

The fire crackled, throwing the room into emerald relief before Minerva stalked through a second later. Her tired eyes pinched behind her spectacles as she scanned the room, taking in the way Severus sat cradling the cup of black tea, Albus' expression, Fawkes desolate frame with wings dropping.

"I see you've already heard the news, Albus." She tilted her head towards the letter, her words brisk and ordered. "We've got to do something. They are too young to be sullied by the ministry in this way."

"Sullied?" Severus asked, laconically. Her choice of words felt deliberate somehow, anxious.

"Yes, sullied." She snapped back. "It may be above your notice, but marriage comes with certain demands. Demands which may hurt our students." She flicked a long, sharp finger before his nose. "We have no guarantees that whomever the ministry picks will be understanding of their age or inexperience."

He must have been more tired than he thought, Severus admitted to himself glumly. Her words slotted into place: the reason the Chit didn't want to move out of his office, the reason she'd been shaking and white suddenly thrown into sharp relief by Minerva's words.

"I don't see what the problem is." Severus tried again. "We will simply sort out some matches ahead of time that will protect the students, and in the meantime fight the Ministry tooth and nail."

The two Gryffindors ignored him; one pacing up and down before the fireplace, her fingers clasped before her chest, and the other sitting behind his desk, arms crossed, lips pressed together tightly.

Severus had no idea what the Ministry were playing at - what exactly the Dark Lord's game was. Forcing all muggleborns to marry those 'with a more secure footing in the Wizarding World' would certainly mean they could keep better tabs on them, but it would also dilute the blood pool. Why would the Dark Lord be encouraging that? He frowned and rubbed his forehead. Something wasn't adding up here.

Dumbledore knocked his fists against the wooden desk, startling Minerva. "We must protect Harry."

"Harry is a half-blood." Severus felt obligated to point out. "Perhaps he will be excused."

"He is without a proper mentor." Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes flashing at Severus with poorly hidden condemnation. "Both Harry's parents are dead. His godfather is dead. This -" He brandished the letter towards Severus - "applies to him."

"And what of the others?" Severus felt curiously protective of how very unnerved Granger was, hugging her arms around herself in the little laboratory at Grimmauld, too scared to go back to her rooms. "Harry isn't even a student of Hogwarts anymore. None of them are. They are adults."

"Most of your Slytherins are safe." Dumbledore replied, taking his spectacles lower down his nose and cutting his other hand through the air dismissively. "As that house is mostly from good wizarding families, they will be able to see to their own." He turned to McGonagall. "Didn't he have a fancy for Ginny? Putting those two together would mean he could claim the Weasley's as his family."

Severus sighed. Once again, the Boy Who Lived was always the first consideration. The Chit had been so nervous she'd been shaking. He probably shouldn't have allowed her to stay in the cellar; with her hands so unsteady she was more than likely going to blow herself up, and then he would have to clean up the pieces.

"If you will excuse me, I should get back." He pulled himself to his feet wearily, feeling his bones crack and joints complain.

They nodded to him, still thinking through the possible ramifications of their decision to join two children in matrimony. "Perhaps," Dumbledore said slowly, "someone more adult could be persuaded to marry the boy. It would remove the emotions from the equation, mean he doesn't get as hurt."

Severus took a pinch of the school's Floo powder back to Grimmauld's library, contemplating the bizarre inner workings of man. The Headmaster knew nothing about empathy, seemed to be able to turn on and off his concern like a lightbulb. Severus ignored the wry twisting of lips as he pondered the irony of thinking that about another person given his own less than stellar reputation. He ran quick fingers through his stubble and turned his feet towards the lab.


	2. Chapter 2: Obviously Unacceptable

**AN:** Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I will endeavor to make you proud.

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The chit was still in the dungeons when Severus stalked back in. He was so damned tired he could barely think, but he knew he needed to finish up at least ten potions today or else they'd never get done in time. She was humming distractedly, two quills in various parts of her bushy hair and another laying on the pages of a journal. Severus stopped moving, staring in disbelief as the chit managed four cauldrons simultaneously.

He hung back to watch, and nodded. She had talent, this one. Most of his students would manage to melt a cauldron even if it were the only one they were working on, but Hermione seemed to manage the load with ease.

As Severus watched, her eyes brightened and she moved away from one cauldron to the book, scrawled something in it, and then back. She moved between the cauldrons as though she were a conductor, stirring them, checking their consistency and colour, correcting small differences in temperature.

He realised with a start that she was only eighteen, operating at a skill far above her level. He should get her an apprenticeship or else teach the girl herself. After the war, of course. If she survived. If he did.

Feeling the weight of the morning gripping his forehead with a vice he willed himself forwards.

"Professor!" She greeted him, this time her eyes brighter. "Did you have any luck figuring out how to fight this?"

He shook his head and held her letter back to her. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger. The Headmaster is researching options as we speak, but nothing came to mind straight away." He thought back to Dumbledore's office and shook his head to dislodge the anger growing there. No doubt the chit had endless faith in the Headmaster to work it all out, to save them all. Everybody seemed to be able to trust his master, and nobody every trusted Severus himself-

"I thought as much might happen, so I've been working on a list of possible matches." She nodded her head towards the journal on the potions bench. Severus raised an eyebrow. Apparently she did not trust the Headmaster to save them, and he felt suddenly a little off kilter that he hadn't known her as well as he had thought he had.

How else, after all, would she have solved his puzzle in the first year, if not by pure logic. And logic dictated that she would be best served by working through a list of potential matches.

Severus walked over to the journal and read from its pages. "Matches." read the right page. On the left, the title was "Obviously Unacceptable". He ignored the flush of anger that came from seeing his own name at the top of that list, and turned his eyes back to those the girl deemed acceptable.

Harry and Ron made sense, of course. Next to each name there was a sentence or two in a tiny hand detailing why they made sense. He glanced at her, where she was looking down into a cauldron and nibbling on her lower lip, and felt his surprise stir again. What had the hat been thinking, sorting her into Gryffindor? He expected such a list from a Ravenclaw.

The list continued. Viktor Krum, the whole set of unmarried Weasley boys, Neville Longbottom… He sighed. Perhaps the chit was too unemotional about this. He couldn't imagine how much her mind would twist and turn under Neville as the head of the family. Imagine marrying George, with his inability to take anything seriously.

He didn't have time for this, not today. Brew the remaining six potions, plus a headache remedy, and then go to bed and catch up on sleep. He hadn't intended to waste the day in bed, but since Hermione's revelation he'd felt less than useless. Severus hadn't even been able to find a hint of the coming revelation, not even with the benefit of hindsight. He felt an utter failure.

The burn salves that Hermione was watching over simmered gently, and one began to pearl. Despite himself, Severus smiled. At least he wasn't alone this morning, at least he had the somewhat cheery company of the Chit to keep him from self-loathing.

He picked up the heavy pewter cauldrons from the pile in the corner of the room and began to line them up on the workbench at the back of the room. The feel of them, smooth and solid and tearing a little at his muscles, reassured him. This was where he belonged, in the lab, working in silence to create and experiment and improve. He was doing his bit to save the world.

A flash of anger hit him. He had also endangered it after all. It was his job to fix that.

His mistakes had been of oversharing. He had been unable to keep his mouth shut, spilling his secrets to the first open ear. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Granger's journal, and the self-loathing snowballed into anger. Before knew what he was doing, he hissed, "Miss Granger."

She jumped, spilling a little of the orange Burn Salve onto the bench from the beaker she had just filled.

"Yes, Professor?" She asked, carefully closing the vial and adding it to the chest by the door.

"Just how many of your plans and secrets are in this scratty journal?" He brandished a hand back towards her, and she winced. "What would happen if, say, an agent of the Dark Lord found it?"

The chit paled, and bit her lip. "Sir, I… I didn't think anyone would ever -"

"That is the problem with you children, you never think." Her eyes flicked towards the book and back to his own. Severus' heart clenched with guilt at the sadness in them, chasing away the anger. "Just… charm it, Miss Granger. And finish bottling and get out of my lab."

"Charm it, sir?" she asked, her voice wavering.

He stalked over to her and pointed his wand straight at the book. He noticed the tension that flowed through her body, but she didn't move to stop him. Such self control.

"I will bind it to you." He explained, proud htat his voice didn't slur despite the tiredness aching in his bones. "Only you, or I, will be able to read the notes it contains. To everyone else, it will look like a book of recipes for chocolate brownies mixed in with notes on History of Magic."

He cast the spell. His magic shivered against his skin like a cool breeze, and he felt it wrap around the chit, coaxing her magic to join his. It took a few moments for her magic to respond, and when it did it felt warm, alive. It swirled around them, whipping their clothes to wrap tightly around their legs and rustling the pages of the notebook. Finally, it coalesced inside the diary, slamming the cover shut. The journal would always be a little cool to the touch, now. A good reminder to learn to keep secrets not written down.

"Sir?" She returned to her bottling. She had angled her shoulders away from him, as though to avoid catching his eye. He was unsurprised.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" If she asked him anything about why the magic was cold or how to create such a spell or why he hadn't let her go and research it himself he wasn't sure he could be trusted to refrain from banishing her from the lab altogether. A man needed some measure of peace and quiet.

"What if I need to show someone a page of the journal?"

"Simply place some of your blood upon the page you wish to show them and say 'revelare'. It should reveal that page for as long as the blood is wet."

"Thank you, sir." She scooped the last of the burn salve away. "Do you want me to wash these cauldrons, sir?"

He felt a wave of exhaustion swell through his bones. His knee ached. His head pounded.

"No, Miss Granger. Just… get out."

She nodded, clutched the book to her chest, and ran up the stairs.

Severus pinched the top of his nose. "Obviously Unacceptable." He repeated, with a twitch of his lips. "Ain't that the truth."


	3. Chapter 3: The Obvious Choice

AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews and story follows. Not sure I would be able to continue writing without y'all. Also, not mine, no money.

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The door slammed open, bounced off the basement wall, and back to Hermione's face. Severus looked up, confused, as Hermione slammed it against the wall twice more. She had tear tracks shining in the afternoon sunlight as she stood at the top of the stairs. Her face was getting more and more red as she punished the door.

Finally, she walked down two steps and slammed it shut. It bounced neatly out of the door frame, but this time instead of continuing to abuse the poor piece of wood - and his ears - she sighed, pressed her forehead against it, and walked forward until it shut.

Severus waited a few moments, turning his attention back to the mandrake leaves he was carefully slicing into regular chunks. The girl did not move, her breathing echoing down the stairwell and into the potions lab he'd built.

"Miss Granger," Severus said, as gently as he could. She jumped and squealed. Severus sighed. Sometimes working with the chit was more exhausting than producing the entire order himself, even if he knew McGonagall had been wise to suggest the girl help him. After all, he could be called away at any moment, and the infirmary would still need supplies. Better a worthy second could be found to help out. "Are you quite alright?"

"Fine." She bit out. She marched down the stairs, avoiding his gaze, and rubbed the sleeve of her jumper across her cheeks. He pretended not to notice that she was clearly not alright as she pulled a mortar and pestle across the desk, scraping it along the wooden surface.

The sound of her beetle carapaces clattering into the stone mortar seemed to highlight rather than disguise the silence, and he felt his eyes constantly flicking over to her at every moment it was safe to do so. She began pulverising the beetles.

He waited a few moments, common sense waring with the need to not waste ingredients. The frugal side won.

"Miss Granger," He repeated, his voice silky and even. "I don't believe these beetles have done anything to offend you, so I ask that you reduce the force with which you mash them to one which will not mean they are unfit for use in this Pepperup."

The girl's face flushed a bright red. "Sorry, sir." she said, releasing her hold on the pestle.

Silence gained the room once again, but Severus did not return to his work. After a moment, she began tapping the desk in an angry, forceful pattern.

"What is on your mind, woman?" He asked finally. He suspected he could get no work done at this rate.

A bubble in one of the corner potions noisily rose to the top. Hermione studied him for a moment and then suddenly the calm of his lab was destroyed.

"How dare he?" She asked, her voice suspiciously close to a whine. Severus chose to stay quiet for now, gathering facts. "How dare he?" She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair away from her face. "I asked Ron to marry me." She continued. "Because of the law. I thought that… well, I know he's fancied me for a few years now, and I thought it would keep me safe."

She stopped talking as her eyes began to gleam suspiciously in reflected firelight, and clenched them shut.

"And he declined?" Severus asked mildly, moving his sliced leaves to the side and picking up his knife again to begin slicing a fresh one.

Hermione made curious noise, a mix of a wail and a laugh.

"No, he accepted that it was a sensible option. He said that as he would be receiving a few such requests in near future, he wanted to wait a few weeks, make sure that he was making the best choice for him." Hermione's eyes opened and Severus was disconcerted to see a hint of wildness in them. He feared for the boy. A woman scorned and all that. "I actually could understand that. Even if I think it sucks. We were friends, surely he'd want to protect me?"

Another jagged breath forced itself out of Hermione. "So I left him and went to the library."

Severus was quite surprised at how magnanimously she had accepted being left hanging while Ronald covered all his bases. After all, the witch was frighteningly clever and clearly important to the cause - even if her safety were put aside, it would hardly be a chore to be married to one so clearly passionate and intelligent. He made a mental note to speak with Minerva about the chit's self esteem.

"He came to find me there about an hour later. He still had breakfast tomato ketchup on his shirt, for God's sake." Severus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He was unable to keep a small smirk from his mouth at her disgust.

"He'd thought about it. He was waving this letter about as he spoke to me. He gave me a list of demands." Her voice raised in both pitch and volume as she continued talking, her left hand once again gripping the pestle. Severus kept an eye on that, too, as her knuckles whitened around it. "He would _allow_ me to continue my work for the order until the end of the war, although he clearly thought I added little. Condescending prat. He would then _require_ that I took some time before starting my career to start a family. He would like us to live at the burrow, to keep his _mother_ company, and because she would be a great _help_ to me when I was pregnant. He also handed me a leaflet with the training menu used for the Chudley Cannons, and said that I was _expected_ to help him keep to that."

Hermione exhaled, a long and forceful breath. Severus thought that her hair became somehow less blue as her shoulders slumped.

"When I asked him where all this was coming from, he said that a good wife would be able to provide these things for him. That it was his _right_ as the head of the family, or some hogwash. So I asked him what the letter was." Her lips pursed, and that one small gesture caused an awareness to wash over him of just how attractive she could be, even heightened in anger. He immediately blocked that thought, trying to concentrate on what she was saying. If the Weasley boy and Miss Granger were on the outs, it would be important to Dumbledore, might affect their training for the war.

"It was a letter from Lavender Brown, detailing all the ways that she and he would be perfect together." Hermione finally raised her eyes and stared into his. "She was willing to follow him around the world while he improved his Quidditch, she would have as many children as he wanted… That was as far as I'd read before he snatched the letter away from me."

She bit her lip.

"He must have written to her the minute I left the room." The tears she'd valiantly tried to ignore finally fell free. She didn't bother to wipe at them.

"Miss Brown is a pureblood." Severus frowned, feeling as though his mind was suddenly wrapped in fog. "Why would she wish to marry Ronald? Neither of them are under any obligation from the Ministry."

Hermione smiled, but it was a wan, twisted thing. "That's just it. I think they want to marry each other before they're forced to marry anyone else. I guess it makes sense, she is much prettier than I am, and cares much more about the family life, you know? I know she wants to start a beauty products newsletter, but it is the sort of thing you can work on at home while the children are growing, at least while it's in its earlier stages."

The cauldron fire crackled. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, before Severus asked. "And you, Miss Granger? What do you want?"

"Once the war is over, and assuming we win, you mean?" Hermione asked. Severus nodded.

"Not that." Her smile grew a little less bitter. "I want to become an Unspeakable, or some form of researcher for the Ministry. Maybe a healer. The sort of job that requires more from you than a 9-to-5, and... I'm not even sure I want children at all. It's not that they aren't cute, it's just… I wouldn't know what to do with one. And it would complicate everything…" She shrugged.

"So then Mr Weasley was completely the wrong fit for your desires." Severus reassured her. "You haven't lost out on much." Because the boy was an idiot, clearly.

"No, I suppose not." She huffed. "But it would have been a lot easier to not still be worried about the sort of man the Ministry will decide on for me." She quickly captured her hair up into a bun.

"Remember, Miss Granger. The choice of partner you marry will have lasting repercussions. You will be wed to him or her not just until the end of the war, but for many decades afterwards. You should have a shared vision for your future, similar desires. You must be able to live with and work besides that person for day after day, years on end, without once getting sick of the way they chew or their morning breath. For example, I believe you would get sick of telling Ronald to clean his clothes after breakfast within the first year, if not the first month."

The smirk grew as he heard Miss Granger's happy huff. "I've been doing it for 6 years, sir. I suppose another 60 wouldn't have killed me. But... you're right, we wouldn't have been happy together."

His voice turned sadly serious. "You would have grown to resent one another. You would constantly wonder how much further your career and research could have grown, had you had a more supportive husband, while he would have the lack of understanding at home limited his fun and forced him to grow up far too quickly. He would have resented you, too."

He captured her eyes with his, willing her to feel his sincerity, and damping down on the temptation to read her thoughts. "It was a good thought, Miss Granger, with the information you had at the time. Now, with this new information, you can make better choices."

Severus returned his gaze back to the slicing, sensing that the danger had passed - although what the danger had been, he was uncertain of. They worked in silence for an hour or so, carefully preparing ingredients for the brewing he had scheduled for today. It was a slightly experimental version of Pepperup he'd thought up while forced to endure the Winter Ball - and the entire teaching staff's snuffling - last year, and acted more as preventative than cure. If it worked.

She waited until he put down his knife before catching his eye and offering him a tight smile. He followed the curve of her lips greedily.

"Thank you."

Severus Snape dropped his head down, allowing his hair to curtain his face. It wouldn't do for Miss Granger to see him blush.

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 _Ron Weasley: Good friends. Know him. Has liked me for a while. Had a crush on him when younger - could get it back? Loyal. Logical. Cons: Large family. Way he eats._


	4. Chapter 4: Two Birds, One Stone

Severus hated these things. Cramped into the library at Grimmauld Place, the Members shuffled about, murmuring greetings to their fellow conspirators. Touching each other as though to reassure themselves that yes, their friend still lived and breathed.

He wondered whether they'd ever realise just how exclusionary they all were. Not only were they a secret society, fighting now against the government and an armed militia, recruiting only their bosom buddies - but they were also actively ignoring him. Nobody cared if he died, as long as he managed to report to Dumbledore before he kicked the bucket.

The fire crackled in the grate, casting long shadows over the assembled room. The theatrics disgusted him. The reports bored him. Perhaps he was on the wrong side after all. At least the Dark Lord's meetings were dull with a hint of mortal peril.

Severus had no doubt that Dumbledore would murder him if it became necessary, although he wouldn't raise his own wand to do it. Oh, no. He would send him out, letting others do the dirty work - and would he let him?

He shook his head fiercely. This macabre mood always settled over him like a cloak whenever he was in Grimmauld proper - the basements excluded, of course. So much wasted talent mixed with dust over books and portraits and the little golden clock on the bannister.

"Right!" Dumbledore cheerfully clapped his hands. "Let us begin plotting! As you all know, as it is now the front page of every newspaper, the Ministry has asked all youths to marry into proper wizarding families." His face turned somber. "Severus and I believe that this is a way to entrap Harry into marriage with some undesirable pureblood - a sympathiser, probably, of Voldemort, if not an outright Death Eater."

Severus tensed, as he always did, before remembering that Grimmauld was a safe place. You could say His name here without the Dark Mark triggering.

He hated that sound.

Minerva stood, her lips pursing. "We must do everything within our power to prevent this happening. There are several unmarried witches and wizards working within the Order that are not required to marry under this… law." Her hands clenched and unclenched in fury as she talked. "We would ask that you all be willing to assist us. Harry is not the only young person placed in danger by this law, and Order members are invaluable. If you are unwilling to be placed in the list, please see myself or Dumbledore afterwards."

Severus sneered. If the Light were pursuing forced marriage of what were essentially children to grown fighters, then he may as well give up now. Perhaps he could start a new Order. Order of the Common Sense. Twilight Order. Order of the Embers.

His train of thought was interrupted by Dumbledore striding towards the door and throwing it open. There stood the Golden Trio, Hermione looking determined, Ronald stupid - but then, the boy always looked stupid - and Harry, nervous. They were studiously not looking at one another, and Hermione and Ron were stiff as boards.

Severus' eyes closed. He could feel the stress headache from this morning coming back full-force, despite his short nap. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing Dumbledore to order them to go away and finish up the meeting so that he might sleep.

Instead, Dumbledore's violet robe sleeve swept an arm towards the room, beckoning them in. Ronald gulped. Hermione walked in primly and perched on a table towards the fire, her notebook clenched to her chest. Harry slunk after her, all short-lived bravery and fierce self-righteousness. Ron stood on the edge of the doorway, looking for all the world like he might run away at any second. It was only when his mother grasped hold of his arm and yanked him inside that he crossed the threshold.

"These three youngsters were listening in at our door!" Dumbledore told the assembled. "But, they are of an age now to join us. Tell me, why were you hovering about out there?" His eyes softened as he studied Harry, and Severus fought the urge to roll his. He doubted very much the boy would even be here if not for the more studious member of the Trio. The one who - again or still - had a quill buried deep in her bushy hair, and who was nervously tapping on the cover of her notebook, her eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"We wanted to propose a solution for the Matrimony Problem." She said.

A glint returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "Ah, yes?"

Minerva smiled encouragingly at the Chit when she failed to continue, and Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face the room. She was clearly unused to such focused attention - she tugged at her sleeve a few times without speaking, her eyes searching through the crowd.

And then her eyes met his and he nodded. He took a deep breath, feeling the stifling air of too-crowded a room fill his lungs, and she copied him.

Then she nodded back and began to speak.

"I believe that I should marry Harry." She said. She would have continued her explanation, but Molly's gasp seemed to give the rest of the room permission to chatter.

Bunch of disorganised, self-centred- He stopped himself. These were his allies, he shouldn't… if he started disparaging them, too, then he wasn't sure he could continue the war.

"Are you joking?" Molly demanded, her voice cutting through the din. Her hands on her hips, she shook with barely repressed fury. "Are you seriously using this crisis to try and steal Harry away from my little girl? Again? Is this some revenge plot because Ron wouldn't marry you?"

The chattering grew louder.

"I… no." Hermione frowned, turning to Harry for support. Harry shrugged, but stood up. Severus once again pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That isn't what this is about, Mrs Weasley." Hermione tried again, raising her voice in an effort to be heard above the din. "I really feel as though it solves a number-"

"Quiet!" Minerva's high-pitched command seemed to fill the room, and the order members - children, the lot of them - settled back down into their seats. "Miss Granger has a plan she would like to share with us. We will hear her reasons before we start speculating." Minerva studied Molly, whose hair was beginning to stand up from her head and whose eyes darted wildly. "Miss Granger, please, continue."

"Right, erm…" The chit bit her lip, and once again made eye contact with Severus. It seemed, for some reason he could not fathom, to give her confidence, and she began again.

"I thought that it would solve two problems at once." She said. "Both Harry and I received our letters yesterday. We must marry within the next months, or else the Ministry will assign us partners." Something snagged in Severus' mind, but when he turned his attention to it, it was gone. There was something suspicious about what she'd said, and yet, she'd only read the facts. "If we marry one another, then both of us are removed from the equation. We can continue our work for the Order without having to worry about hiding our efforts from our spouses, we get along well as friends…" She faltered as she saw the shade of red Molly's face was turning.

"Anyway, it was just a thought."

"Slattern!" Molly shouted. "Calculating whore."

Severus raised an eyebrow, watching the scene carefully. He stretched his hands, preparing himself.

"You knew you couldn't get Ron with that hair and your bookish ways, but that didn't stop you from trying to trap him. Did you think if you married Harry we'd have to take you seriously? Your work for the Order? What do you, besides curl up in the library, reading? Did you really think that your future husband would care about that? I knew I should have listened to the news, but no, I believed you. How dare you!"

"Mum?" Ron tried, his hand pulling at his ginger hair. "It isn't like that. Come on, you know that Hermione-"

Molly began to levitate, her magic bursting from her skin. Minerva's hands worried at each other like indecisive puppies, her wand still hidden away. Severus had had enough.

"Stupefy." He cast, ending the tirade against the innocent Miss Granger.

The silence in the library was deafening as Dumbledore caught Molly before she fell. All eyes turned to Severus, who settled back against his armchair, ignoring them all. A blush stained his cheekbones pink, but it was hidden behind a wall of his hair.

"Severus! You can't just go around… go around…" Minerva cried out.

Severus raised an eyebrow, although nobody could see it. "Protecting my graduates? No, I suppose I should leave that to you."

"Ahem. Right." Dumbledore flailed. "Perhaps now we can return to the concentration and order in which we normally complete these meetings. Miss Granger, please take a seat."

The chit turned, trying to find a seat - but there were none free. Order members lined up against the wall. The Headmaster wasn't actually telling her to sit down, he was ordering her away from the front of the room - and Severus saw the moment she realised this. The way her head snapped back and her mouth opened.

But she didn't fight it. She swallowed, and nodded. A frown line creased her brow as she walked towards Severus, perching on the arm of his armchair.

Severus felt himself frown too. How dare she sit by him? His personal space during these debacles was a hard won affair, the only reward his role as spy and Dangerous Dark Magic Practitioner afforded him.

While Dumbledore ordered some tea to calm the nerves and sent for someone to mind Molly, Hermione leaned down towards him.

"Thank you, sir." He blushed harder, and the embarrassment fed the anger, colouring his words with an edge he didn't intend.

"As you are incapable of defending yourself, Miss Granger, I felt it the only way to restore harmony to the room."

"Yes, well. Thank you anyway."

Dumbledore coughed, bringing everyone's attentions back to him, mug in hand. "Now, Miss Granger raised a very valid theory for how we might stave off the Ministry demands, but I'm afraid it will not suffice. Miss Granger and Harry are both too close to the muggle world for the ministry to be satisfied with their union in the terms demanded by the letter."

"But Headmaster," Miss Granger piped up. Severus felt his heart warm with pride at her complete disregard of how celebrated the man was whom she kept unstaging, interrupting and otherwise annoying. Foolish gryffindor. "If we were to be married before the deadline, there would be no need for the union to fulfil their demands. As long as we were already married, they couldn't question it."

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that you are wrong." Dumbledore's eyes shone brightly. "The Ministry, I am sure, would see your marriage as the escape hatch it clearly is, and would dissolve it for that alone, and by that time we would be past the deadline. They would be well within their rights to provide replacement matches for both of you. We cannot take the risk. We will work tirelessly until Harry - indeed, both of you - have matches within the Order that fulfil the demands of the Ministry to the letter of the law." His tone softened. "Do you understand?"

The girl bit her lip, and nodded. Severus wondered, peeking at her from under his hair, if he were the only one who saw the cold anger glittering in those dark brown eyes. She ducked her head, opened her notebook, and crossed something out with her quill. She closed it with a snap.

"Now, as Minerva was saying, if any of you are unwilling to put yourselves forward to be considered for marriage, please come see me privately."

Severus was sure he was the only one who noticed a tear drip down from her chin and onto her lap. He silently placed a handkerchief onto the armrest she was perched on.

The meeting ended quickly, after a few reports from the aurors on current criminal activity that might be Death Eater related. None of it rang any bells, and the crease between Severus' eyes deepened. Had the Dark Lord lost faith in his Hogwarts spy? Or were these truly unrelated crimes?

He was so lost in thought he didn't take his usual route of escape - directly after the Headmaster closed the meeting and straight down the stairs - and so the large and slowly moving herd of Order members already blocked the door. He sighed and focussed his mind on fading away. It was a mental trick that had made him such an effective spy, and kept him alive in more of Voldemort's councils than he cared to remember, and made him about as noticeable as the chair he was framed in. It would, at the very least, mean he would escape making conversation until the blockade filtered down the stairs.

Hermione had joined said blockade. Her shoulders slumped as Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter descended upon her, Harry grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the other members. Severus doubled down on his Occlumency shields, and shrank into the chair, curious.

"Hermione," Harry said, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect Molly to blow up like that."

"Yeah." Ron added. "That was mental."

Hermione turned her gaze to Ron and Severus shivered. She said nothing. Ronald glanced between Harry and Hermione rapidly, and Harry frowned.

Ron gulped.

"Hermione, about earlier… I just wanted to say I'm… well…"

"Ron is trying to apologise." Harry broke in.

Ron nodded. "I am. Sorry, that is. I didn't… I wasn't thinking." He paused and waited, but Hermione expression didn't change. "Right. Hermione. I was … I've always known that I wasn't the most attractive of the Wizarding population, alright? Even if you ignore the fact that I'm ginger and freckled, I've got five older brothers and most of them are a lot cooler than I am, you know? Fred and George have got the comedy act, and the rebellious one to boot. Bill and Charlie are way older and - hell - Charlie's covered in muscles and works with dragons. I've always been the younger, weedy brother, you know? So when suddenly I realised that I might be a catch… I got a bit caught up in my own head." His face contorted. "That list of demands was… rude. And dumb."

Severus watched the tension ripple away over Hermione's face like a sunrise, and scowled. How could she let him off that easily? The fool had insulted her several times in the course of a morning for Christ's sake, and the boy's mother had then tried to attack her - and successfully attacked her reputation - in front of a large group of their colleagues.

But forgive him she clearly was going to. "Just a little bit." She said, a small smile gracing her lips. "It was selfish and inappropriate at best." Her eyes flicked down to the floor and Severus once again watched her take a deep breath to steady herself. "It was probably a good thing that you did, you know? I think it proved that we would have made each other miserable if we married. I spoke with a friend and they made me think about what I wanted, long-term you know?" Severus Snape's eyes narrowed. A friend? He had been the one - oh. Did she think he was her friend? She continued speaking as he stewed over the question. "I wouldn't have been able to do that without you cornering me in here and demanding assurances about our future life. I still think it was uncaring, and I'm not sure I can just go back to normal straight away, but… you're alright, Ron. You need to start to think before you act though."

If she thought they were friends… well, after all that time working together in the basement one could forgive her the imposition. A warm feeling grew in his chest, but was quickly extinguished. It was clearly just a choice of words used to protect his identity. She didn't want these two imbeciles to think that she regularly had cosy chats about feelings with the bat of the dungeons, and so she had lied a little. His chest seemed to freeze over once again, and his mouth set, lips pressed together. The idea of their being friends was ludicrous. The girl clearly had enough friends already.

"Thanks Hermione." Ron hugged her tightly - causing Severus' lips to whiten further - and Harry joined in the embrace. "You're a really good person, you know that? Anyone would be lucky to have you. You deserve better than me, you know?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I guess so." They stood like that for a few moments. "Do you think your mum will ever forgive me?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, of course." Ron said.

"I'll talk to her, tell her it was my idea." Harry said, looking a little green.

"No, don't do that. Just… just let her calm down and I'll speak with her." Hermione said. "Explain to her my reasoning."

For once, Severus empathised with the facial expressions on Potter and Weasley - that would not be a good idea. He would have to persuade her not to go anywhere near Molly when they were back in the potion's lab tomorrow.

"Come on." Said Ron suddenly, "I think I heard Dumbledore saying McGonagall brought some shortbread biscuits for after the meeting, and if we don't hurry they'll be all gone."

Hermione laughed. "Do you ever not think about food?" She asked, humour staining the question.

"Nope!" Ron replied cheerfully. "Come on!"

Severus waited until they'd closed the door behind them before releasing his shields. The line between his eyes didn't disappear when the Occlumency focus faded, and he rubbed it gently with a finger. Hermione Granger was a puzzle, but he had bigger problems to consider than the young Gryffindor. She was not for him to figure out.

He rubbed his chest with his left hand as he walked slowly towards the door, pressing against that brief flash of warmth earlier.

But how he wished she were.

 _Harry Potter: Good friends. Comfortable. Expedient - saves both of us. Work well together. Would be with him saving the world anyway. No more danger than I'm in now. Easy. Cons: Skeeter. Ginny. To do: Talk to Harry first. Propose the idea to Dumbledore._


	5. Chapter 5: And The Walls Come Crumbling

**Chapter 5 : And the walls come crumbling down**

AN: Thank you so much for all the wonderful and passionate reviews. This is my first published fanfiction and it's heartwarming that so many people are enjoying my story. That being said, I make no money from this, only smiles.

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Severus Snape was enjoying the calm of the lab. It was an early Saturday afternoon, and the warmth of the sun, along with Harry and Ron's cajoling, had drawn Granger out of the lab and into the lazy air. It had been preternaturally hot the last week, so much so that Severus had resorted to Cooling Charms wrapped discreetly around his frame in order to keep the heavy cotton cloak buttoned tightly around him during his infrequent trips upstairs.

Luckily the basement was naturally cool - he didn't risk the cooling charms near the potions for fear that an unhappy mix of ingredient and temperature magic might cause unexpected side effects. The time it took a potion to boil, especially experimental potions like these, was carefully controlled. He'd even taken to unwrapping himself and leaving the cloak on the peg by the stairs in order to put distance between the now magic-imbued garment and his precious cauldrons.

Luckily the chit mostly forgoed charms and other cosmetic additions, so he'd only had to give her the lecture once. Either that or she was clever enough not to provoke him into a repeat performance.

Her lavender jumper was folded neatly over one of the stools near the door. She kept saying that she would bring down a hanger and put it on the peg, but she never remembered to. Instead, the knitted garment would sit waiting for her to come down and pull it on. It meant that the corner sometimes smelt of her. When Severus worked in here alone, late at night, he felt as though he were haunted by the Gryffindor bookworm, that she was sitting quietly, reading while he worked, even when he knew she was curled up sleeping soundly upstairs. A pleasant daydream.

He began to prepare ingredients for the latest batch of Burn Salve, aware that Granger should be coming down soon to dice the aloe vera for the base. He'd found using the muggle herb in the potion's base surprisingly effective for removing the immediate sting, although it added little to the longer term healing. Still, if the patient felt a potion working, they were less likely to give up on repeated applications before fully healed. It was a consequence, he felt, of how every desire they ever entertained could be handed to them with one swish of a wand. It was little wonder most of them had the attention span of gnats.

He sighed and pushed himself up out of his chair. He pulled open the cupboard door and stepped inside, revelling in the almost icy chill that brushed across his skin. He knew that here, old charms had been layered on top of each other on each brick, and it had at first made him concerned for the potency of his ingredients. But that had been a few years ago - after numerous tests he'd come to the conclusion that the room had been made for keeping precious stock like this, had been carefully woven to keep the temperature cool by magnifying the earth's own properties.

Or so he theorised. It didn't stop him retesting the hypothesis at the start of every summer.

He heard a thump echo through the walls. Granger again. Must the woman be so violent with everything she touched?

A second thump. Had she had an unfortunate run in with the Weasley boy once more?

He reached out to the handle of the room to throw open the door and demand she use her considerable vocabulary instead of her fists but stopped before his fingers brushed the handle. Voices. She'd brought someone else down here. McGonagall had explicitly told her not to encourage others down here.

His instincts as a spy kicked in, and he worked the door slightly, careful not to allow it to open more than a finger's width.

"I can't believe you proposed to Harry!"

Ah, not the Weasley boy, but the girl. As passionate as her mother. Honestly, Severus felt some sympathy for her.

"I can't believe neither of you thought to tell me!"

Now Severus felt a whole lot of sympathy.

Hermione stammered. "I just assumed Harry would-"

Ginny screamed in frustration. "And he assumed you would. My best friend. I honestly thought you were clever than that." She gulped down a mouthful of air and the anger seemed to deflate out of her. "I feel so betrayed. By both of you. Sisters before misters, Hermione."

The girl slumped onto one of the stools - Severus heard the scrape of wood against the stone floor - and put her head into her hands.

"You're right." Hermione sat next to her, but didn't reach out to close the gap. "We should have told you what we were planning to do. Or at least after, before Molly woke up."

Ginny snorted. "She was so mad." She mumbled.

"I didn't like him, you know? Not like that. It just made sense, to take care of the two muggleborns at once."

"He's not a muggleborn." Ginny pointed out, her voice muffled by her hands, which still guarded her face jealousy.

"Fine, the two people who need to be taken care of. You knew what I meant." There was a pause before Hermione continued. "But it wasn't like I planned this, you know?"

"I know." Ginny raised her head, her hair still tangled in her fingers. "I do know that. That's why I'm not really mad, you know? Not like mum. I'm frustrated and disappointed and feel left out. You always leave me out. And I don't even get to be mad about _that_ because you're off saving the world or whatever as a three. I'm not part of it. The Golden Quartet doesn't have a nice enough ring to it." She sighed, and picked at something on her knee. Her voice seemed to hollow in sadness. "It was probably even the right choice. I've just liked him so long it felt a bit like you… like you pushed me off a broom and I'm falling fast. Does that make sense?"

Hermione leaned forward and awkwardly embraced the younger girl. Severus was surprised at the maturity displayed by 17-year-old Ginevra, and decided he quite liked the girl. Although that thought made him consider whether he was spending far too much time surrounded by Gryffindors, especially given the time since he was last summoned.

He frowned, and rubbed at his left forearm. It was beginning to trouble him more and more, that Voldemort clearly didn't trust him enough - or that he had lost his worth now that the Boy Who Lived no longer attended Hogwarts.

He forced himself to focus on the conversation in his lab, rather than give in to the spiralling thoughts snapping at each other. If Voldemort had lost faith, it meant he would soon end up dead. And if he thought about that, he might break.

He couldn't afford to be cowardly, and Hermione Granger's struggles with finding a mate gave him an escape, an outlet. It had nothing to do with how fetching he had noticed she had become. Nothing at all to do with the clothes the summer heat allowed her to wear, clearly from last summer and now just a tad too small for her mature body. Or how when she came into the dungeon the chill would cause the front of her chest to stand to attention before she pulled on the lavender jumper.

Dammit man, focus.

The women were muttering to each other, Hermione comforting Ginevra . "You'll never be left out, and I'm sure once the war is over and Harry has the time to even think about dating-"

"He needs to marry." The Weasley pointed out despondent. "I never even got a chance, thanks to this stupid law stuff. I was born too late." She sighed. Severus smirked at the melodramatic teenager he recognised from years of teaching her.

"Why can't he marry you?" Hermione asked.

"I think mum was really pushing for that, you know? That's why she turned on you." A pause. "Thank Merlin Snape was there…"

"Professor Snape. Yeah, he was great." Hermione acknowledged. "He really gave me the confidence to continue speaking after… well… Yeah, he saved me."

Severus, hidden in the dark, smiled.

"And he saved mum. Can you imagine what would have happened if she'd actually hexed you?"

There was a moment of silence, then Ginny stood up. "I've got to go upstairs and help mum finish dinner. You have fun finishing up your potions or whatever it is you do down here…" She waved her hand around the lab, and Hermione smiled.

"Just some basic brews." She explained, although Severus knew that for a lie. "Boring stuff that Professor Snape doesn't want to take care of."

The cheek of the chit! She was his full research partner in all the combinations, studying directly under a Potions Master, even without the formality of an apprenticeship. Boring stuff indeed. Anyone would give their right arm for a chance to-

He stopped suddenly at the thought. She was lying to protect his reputation. If it got out to the general populace, even only the members of the house, that he was working closely and cooperatively with his ex-student there would be no end of questions. It would blow his cover, or damage the frightening persona he maintained.

He'd told her to tell people they were doing Order work, but he hadn't expected her to be that clever about it. Unless she actually found working with him boring?

Severus felt his heart stutter.

No, he couldn't mistake the light in her eyes as he suggested various upgrades and amendments as anything other than the fervent love of studying that had plagued him in various forms the entire time she'd been a student at Hogwarts.

She enjoyed it here, ergo, she was lying to Ginny. For him. How very Slytherin.

"Ginny," Hermione said, then hesitated. The ginger girl waited. "I don't suppose you'd consider marrying me?"

Severus' eyebrows shot up. Ginny blurted out a peal of laughter. "Are you serious?" She asked. When she realised that Hermione was, she sobered up a little, but the humour coloured her words. "Hermione, I don't… go that way."

Hermione nodded. "I'm not sure that I do, but I'm really scared about who the Ministry will match me with. Especially if Professor Dumbledore is correct and the law comes from the Dark Lord himself."

Ginny frowned. "I thought Dumbledore had you all calling him Voldemort?"

Severus forced his muscles to relax as they bunched underneath him, reminding himself yet again that the Dark Lord couldn't reach here.

"Yeah, well. I must have picked it up from somewhere. Anyway, I figured if I married you, then I wouldn't need to marry some random person..."

Ginny lay a hand on Hermione's arm. "Don't worry, Hermione. Dumbledore will fix it, you wait and see. But I can't sacrifice my future for you. I want to be happy with- with the man I marry, you know? Anyways, I've really got to go. Trust me, Hermione, Dumbledore will fix it."

Hermione nodded and drew away. Severus could sense her feeling of rejection through the wall, and wondered at how Ginny could so easily dismiss her friend's proposal. He waited until he heard the lab door close again before he slowly pushed his way out of the storage cupboard.

Hermione jumped.

"Sir, have you been here the whole time? But I suppose you must have been." She drew her lip in-between her teeth. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it, Miss Granger." Severus confirmed. He walked over to her but hesitated. They weren't friends, he reminded himself. As much as he wanted to reach out and comfort her, pat her on the shoulder or pull her into the easy hug she had shared with Ginevra, he couldn't. She was only recently no longer his student, and besides, when had anyone ever welcomed his touch? Instead of being comforted she'd probably be sickened. Obviously unacceptable, he reminded himself.

"I…" She squared her jaw and looked up at him. "I hope you don't think less of me?"

"Not at all." Hermione nodded, but did not release her lip. He swallowed. "I believe I told you to think long-term, and yet you propose to Ginevra Weasley, a straight woman. Would that marriage have been a happy one? Perhaps I ought to curate the list a little, based on your recent experiments."

She darted a glance up at him before pulling the notebook from her satchel and dropping it onto the table. She slid her finger between the pages at a bright red post-it note and flipped it open. As he watched over her shoulder, she crossed Ginny's name from around half-way down the page.

"So if we take these in order," Severus said, tapping Potter's name, "next is Neville, then Viktor Krum? Who is… Ah yes, the Bulgarian. How do you know him?"

Hermione seemed to shiver at his words, and he stepped back a little to allow her more personal space. He was looming over her, he realised self-consciously. That had to be disconcerting for anyone, let alone when they were speaking over her personal life… She had a way of making him forget himself. Who he had carefully crafted himself to be.

"We dated in fourth year, during the Tri-Wizard tournament," she explained. Severus allowed himself to feel the flush of hot jealousy that accompanied those words, but refused to show any of it. "He is a careful man who struggled valiantly to help us during the maze crisis. I believe we wouldn't make each other miserable, at least. After he rescued me from the lake, he said he truly liked me, that I was one of a kind."

"That you are, but Krum is unacceptable."

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded, swinging around. Now that she was facing him, no longer bent over her notebook, he realised that they were still standing closely. Far too close for his peace of mind. But taking a step back would show weakness, make it obvious that she unbalanced him… Conflicted, he did nothing, as she stood waiting for his answer. "Well? You can't just cross someone from my small list of marriage possibilities without explaining your reasoning!"

She must be getting far too familiar with him if she was going to use that tone. Severus' anger flared up, and this time he let it creep across his voice and face. "I can and I will. You will not marry Viktor Krum."

Hermione did not move, but slowly crossed her arms over her chest and maintained eye contact with him. In the face of her defiance his anger leaked away. He ran a hand through his hair to brush it from his face, and moved to sit beside her. "It's too dangerous." He began to explain. Hermione opened her mouth to ask something, but he lifted a hand. "Please, let me speak. It is dangerous for a number of reasons, none of which you should repeat outside this room. The first is that the Krum family are an unknown factor. Several of his family members, including his close aunt, supported the Dark Lord through his first rise and at least one is currently helping him with his second. The Dark Lord maintains a solid foothold in Bulgaria, believing that we should copy their examples in schooling and research: a fact I am sure you are unsurprised to learn."

She settled down once again on her lab stool, and Severus savoured for a moment the sound of her clothes rustling around her, but didn't look up. He noticed one of her hairs somehow twisted into the fabric of his trousers, and pulled it out as he continued to speak. It curled around his fingers. "Second, they are in Bulgaria. You cannot possibly leave now, or else you destabilise our efforts to win the war - and if you do not go and live with your new husband, doubts will be raised over the truth of your marriage. In addition, it is doubtful that Viktor would wish to be so long apart from his new wife, and that would be additional pressure to leave the country. He could not move here, not in this political climate. The Ministry has tightened the borders for foreign Wizards and Witches to show they take the growing number of Dark attacks seriously."

He risked a glance up at her, feeling his heart warm with pride at how attentively she listened to him.

"And if you were to move to Bulgaria and the marriage did not work out for some reason or other, you are far from the support of your friends and family. You would be isolated in a country that still to its roots believes that Muggleborns are worthless."

He took a breath and wetted his lips. His mouth was dry, but this last part was important. He could not risk letting her brush over it if he moved away, even if that disruption was only to fetch water.

"And if that does not persuade you, then I must finish by saying that you should not marry anyone who studies Dark Magic."

He glanced up at her face from amongst his hair to see that she had raised an eyebrow speculatively, but she did not begin to speak. He realised with a start that he had asked her not to interrupt and cleared his throat. "You may ask questions now." he rasped.

"Sir, you practice dark magic." She pointed out. "Why would you advise me to stay clear of all those who do the same?"

There was a well of ugly humour bubbling up inside his chest, and Severus had a mad urge to cackle. He was scared that if he began to laugh, he would end with crying, and the little respect he had fostered in the chit would be lost by the end of the afternoon. Instead, he clarified.

"I would not marry myself." He pointed out. "Dark Magic relies on your baser emotions as fuel. Over time, as you cast more and more dark spells, experiment more and more with that side of yourself, they live closer to the surface. For me, it is anger - when I first started I was filled with righteous anger. Over the years, I have tried consciously to balance it with other unpleasant emotions, but anger is the default source I use in times of stress." He darted a glance at her, and saw confusion and a hint of fear. It felt like a knife stabbing into his chest. He felt his anger stir at the rejection, but calmly pulled his barriers into place. This was an important lesson for Hermione to understand, if it would keep her safe from Krum.

It would, a part of his brain noted, probably also be the end of the casual relationship they had built up over the month in his little lab, too. She would soon find other more important things to help the Order with than his potions, drawing away from him. The loss would be worth it if it kept her safe, he knew that. His desires and comforts meant little in the grand scheme of things.

He forced himself to continue talking. "To control dark magic, then, is in many ways to lose control of your emotions."

"I have very rarely seen you lose control of your emotions." Hermione rebutted.

"Liar." He smirked. "I am always on the brink of rage, and I'm sure yourself and Longbottom have often been at the brunt of it."

"But you didn't hurt us." She pointed out.

"No, but that's not to say another Dark Wizard wouldn't. I take a vow every year with Dumbledore and Hogwarts to keep the students safe."

Hermione's brain seemed to spin and whir.

Two plates appeared on the table next to them so suddenly that even Severus jumped. The conversation had been so intense the rest of the world had seemed to fade away.

He eyed the plates suspiciously - they seemed carefully placed, one at his left elbow, and the other at Hermione's right. Almost as though the sender had been very specific over who had which. He filed that thought away for later.

"I don't think that the vow is the only reason." Hermione said, manfully ignoring the smell of meat pie curling through the air. "I think you are downplaying your considerable self-control. After all, you have not hurt me yet, and we've been working together for two months now."

Severus felt that this conversation was getting out of hand, and lifted the glass of water to his mouth instead of reply. When he glanced at her, Hermione had a fork in hand and was just about to plunge it into the meat pie.

Something in his brain clicked, and before he had thought through the motion, Severus grabbed her hand in his.

Her skin was soft and warm and Severus felt himself almost melt into her.

"Don't," He said horsley, pushing away her plate and pulling his fingers from hers with effort. "Miss Weasley said that her mother had cooked. Who knows what she did to that. Share mine instead."

He carefully cut a line that was almost in the center, but veered in places towards the left. Then he pushed the plate in between them, careful to position the larger side towards Hermione.

"Thanks," She said, studying him. "You saved me from Mrs Weasley once again."

He smirked, tilting his head so that hair spilled across him, hiding the pleased thrill he was sure must be visible. "Somebody had to."

She didn't appear too scared of him, at least not yet. Perhaps once she'd digested the conversation, realised what it meant about him… Once she was alone and didn't have to hide behind her Gryffindor courage. Well, he didn't expect her back. But he could enjoy this last shared supper, could he not? A companion that could keep up with him conversationally was in short supply nowadays. He ignored the part of him that would miss her, specifically. He wasn't allowed to desire things.

"So," She began, and then stopped. Her voice seemed to echo around the lab. Severus winced - he'd let the silence grow awkward while he thought over her reaction, and now she had been forced to try and save it. Why was friendship so damned difficult? Why must he always look like a fool?

"So?" He drawled.

"I was wondering what you thought about experimenting with a few other Muggle herbs. Since the aloe vera appeared to work so well."

He chewed while he considered the proposal. "Yes, that seems like a good starting point for further-" His left arm exploded in pain, causing his fork to leap from his hand and bounce from the table. Gravy dripped from it onto the wood.

Hermione gaped at him in shock as he turned white, wrapping the other hand around his forearm. He watched understanding dawn in her eyes even as he began the process of carefully Occluding everything his master could not know.

"I'll wait for you." She said.

He shook his head. "No. You do not know how long I will be gone." He hissed.

"I will be here." She repeated.

He didn't have time to argue with the chit, or the worry in her eyes - not when he knew the same worry was reflected inside himself. He nodded curtly and strode to the door and up the stairs.

"Send a note to the Headmaster." He called behind him. "Hopefully, if I return, we will understand more fully how to manage the marriage crisis," He realised belatedly that he was promising her, albeit subconsciously, that he, too, would work until she was safe.

Another stab of pain chased through his body and he turned his thoughts away from Hermione and towards his master, finishing the onion of shields that would hopefully protect him. The warm London air barely touched his arm before he turned on his heel and Apparated away.

* * *

 _Ginevra Weasley: Safe. Whole family works closely with the order. No secrets. Cons: Molly's daughter. In love with Harry. Straight. Share few hobbies._


	6. Chapter 6: The Enemy Faction

Chapter 6: The Enemy Faction

Sweat beaded on Severus' lip as he knelt before his master, the Dark Lord, the ache in his knees solidifying into a sharp stabbing pain. He was getting too old for this.

His Lord sat on a chair on a dias, laughing with the Senior Malfoy. Lucius held a whisky glass in one hand and was spilling a little of it as he gesticulated - Severus could see it if he craned his eyes upwards towards the dias. Something he attempted for mere seconds at a time, not wanting to get caught. Lucius could be such a sot. It was his way of coping with the knowledge that his family were in danger.

"Severus," the Dark Lord said, breaking easily from the banter. His voice held no intonation, devoid of the humour he had so recently shared. "Why are you still kneeling, my son?"

He had played this game too many times to know that this was not an invitation to get up. Eyes resolutely fixed onto the floor just ahead of his painful knees, he swallowed. "My Lord has not called me for a week now, and yet it is the summer. I can only assume that I have fallen from your favour somehow, and thus seek repentance."

"It's been more than a week since you called upon me." Mocked Lucius, slurring slightly. Severus' eyes widened - if the Dark Lord chose to indulge in his blonde pet's humour, Severus would be writhing on the carpet within seconds. "You sound like a scorned teenage girl, Sev. The Master calls on those he deems useful." Several people tittered behind Severus and he felt the air on the back of his neck rise.

"Lucius." Reproached the Dark Lord. Immediately the room fell silent. "My poor Severusss."

Nagini whispered along the floor in the quiet that followed, and began circling Severus. He flicked a parched tongue across his lips and allowed his fear to grow. The Dark Lord would be pleased if he saw that fear.

The room was cold and smelt of dust. It wasn't a large room as such, roughly the size of his classroom, but narrower and longer. He realised that the dias was simply a stage, that this was more than likely a church hall. The thought was not cheering - if some Muggle were to walk in and find them, he had no doubts as to what his master would do.

"Do not fear. You have not fallen from favour, my son. I merely knew that you were helping the Order with some potions, and wanted you to cement their good opinions of you. I want to know what their plans are to deal with my pretty new paperwork, and you are the only one well placed enough to tell me. That is the only reason I have let you fester with those horrid little plotters."

Nagini stopped circling him and his pulse began to slow down.

"My lord, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

Lucius snorted and the Dark Lord pushed him away from the chair. He stumbled, but regained his balance and walked elegantly, if a little unevenly, down the little wooden stairs and out into the night. Voldemort patted the arm of his chair as he spoke. "Come, report to me."

Severus rose unsteadily and staggered forward, hoping his mind was exaggerating how awkwardly he walked. Definitely too old, he confirmed as he pushed himself up and perched on the arm. From here he could see the others in the room, but they were masked and cloaked. Four Death Eaters, one woman and three men.

Severus cleared his throat. "My lord, the Headmaster plots. The Boy-To-Die and the blood traitor are too dumb to think for themselves, and the Mudblood has a list."

That word would be the death of him someday.

"A list?" The Dark Lord asked, a sinister, bloodless smile curling at the corner of his mouth. Severus nodded.

An awful laugh erupted from the thin lips as Voldemort contemplated it. "Too funny, Severus, too perfect. Of course she did."

"So far, my Lord, she is the only one with any kind of plan."

The Dark Lord's smile broadened. "As you say, Severus. Truly, the brains of the operation." Somehow, he made it sound like an insult. Abruptly he gestured a hand and Bellatrix minced into the room as though she had been waiting for his signal. Perhaps she had. "Continue, Severus. What has the bitch planned?"

"She has been attempting to marry herself off, of course, my Lord. The blood traitor disgusted her with his response, and the Headmaster cut off her proposal to the Boy-To-Die. Even the Weasley chit rejected her."

The inner part of him that he hoped was well hidden winced at this callous description. She thought him a friend, and he… well, he was something else entirely. These were details she had shared with him in trust, but they were also useful tidbits for the Dark Lord. They gave no real information that the Dark Lord could use to crush the order, merely gossip - but nonetheless He seemed to enjoy such things.

"It is no surprise that she is having trouble." Bellatrix hissed through a blood red smile. "Not even a family such as the Weasleys want a girl like that polluting their bloodlines."

Severus inclined his head. "As you say."

"So what do Dumbledore and his whore plot?" The Dark Lord prompted.

"My lord, the Headmaster has made a list of all the members of the Order, and those who wish not to marry the charity cases must present themselves to him in order to be removed."

"Charity cases." Bellatrix snorted. "Such a beautiful turn of phrase." Her fingers slid up from her waist to cup a breast, pale and glowing against the darkness of her dress. Severus swallowed and looked away. She was too dangerous to admire openly - like a tiger, murderous and driven by instinct.

"And have you done so?" The Dark Lord asked. Severus could tell that although the question fell from his lips as though it was of little consequence, there was only one right answer.

"My lord, I could not act before I spoke to you. Perhaps you wished me to present myself as a candidate in order to further the appearance that I am his man."

"Perhaps." Voldemort beckoned and Bellatrix minced closer, taking up the opposite chair arm. He slid a hand around her waist. "I want you to ignore the old coot. Neither sign up for his list nor marry whomsoever he appoints. You have bigger fish to fry."

"My lord?"

"I had thought to give her to Bella."

"Who, my lord?"

"The Mudblood, of course." The Dark Lord continued, ghosting up Bellatrix's body to tangle his hand in her hair. He tugged her head back and she willingly exposed her throat, ignoring the snake that inched closer to the throne at the motion. "Wouldn't they be such a pretty pair?"

Severus nodded, not trusting his voice.

"But I prefer to keep my pet uninhibited."

"Is Bellatrix not already married, my Lord?" Severus asked, confused.

"No." The Lord's face stretched into an approximation of a smile. "She is with Rodolphus but they took no formal vows. My beauty prefers to keep her only vow that she made to me, and I have to agree with her." He released his hold on her neck and rested his arm in her lap instead. "We allowed people to believe she was married in order to keep up appearances."

"It was expected that I would marry a Pureblood once I left that crumbling castle." She said, braiding her fingers around those in her lap. "Didn't do to alienate my Lord's supporters."

"I...see." Severus said. He tilted his head down and allowed his hair to fall like a curtain before his face.

"I want you to pursue the girl instead."

Had Severus been drinking, he would have spat. As it was, he gasped for air. "My...Lord?"

"What is it, my son? She is young, probably still a virgin… What about her displeases you?"

"My Lord wishes me to marry a Mudblood?" Severus asked. "I thought you said I had not fallen from favour."

Severus felt his chin being lifted to meet Voldemort's gaze.

"You have not. I realise that marrying a Mudblood, particularly given your delicate position, may not be the strongest move in our future, but she will not sully your reputation for long. You will have many years after we win to find a new bride, one with cleaner roots." He brushed his thumb along Severus' jaw. "This will help me immensely, Severus. I will not force you to take her, if you truly despise it. But think of how much more information you will gain if you are in such close proximity to your wife." His fingers tightened. "They will trust you."

"My Lord," Severus spoke into that tight grip, despite the ache. "I think they will be suspicious of my claiming her."

"Severus, don't simply state that you will marry her." Bellatrix sounded disgusted with him. "Use that acting ability and persuade her to. Say it's a love match and you've been watching her closely for five years. Say you admire her list making abilities. Whatever it takes to persuade her. The cretin called Headmaster will fall into line after that."

"I will lose my job." Severus said, slowly.

"No." Voldemort rebutted. "You are too important to the old coot. You are one of the finest teachers in the land, his only connection to our circle, and would have had to marry one of your ex-students anyway. Tell him that you know I plan to marry you to her and are simply making a power play to prove your loyalty. Tell him anything you like. I want you engaged by this time next week."

Voldemort released Severus' jaw, and he fought the urge to rub his fingers to try to ease the pain.

"I will do it, for my Lord. Of course."

The Dark Lord smiled. "Thank you, my son." He patted him on the head and then pushed him from the chair arm, much as he had pushed Lucius away earlier. As soon as Severus was standing, Voldemort tugged Bellatrix across his lap, allowing him free access to her body. She smiled, her eyes not leaving Severus'.

Severus wasn't sure if it was the painfully thin woman or the power he held over her that attracted the Dark Lord more.

"It wouldn't do to send you back like that." Voldemort pointed out. A smile had graced his lips, twint to that on Bella's face. It set Severus' bones screaming. "The Headmaster must believe you are desperate to regain my good graces. So I must make it look like you have fallen." He raised his wand slowly. Bellatrix spread her legs, her gaze heated and full of promise. "Crucio."

Some time later Severus pulled himself down the stairs at Grimmauld Place, gripping the barrier with white fingers, and cursed his younger, dumb self. If he hadn't fallen for the Dark Lord's lies in the first place, he could be a happily employed Dark Arts teacher. Instead, he was cramping and wincing his way up a flight of stairs that a puppy could master in seconds. To add insult to injury, if anybody saw him like this he was too weak to curse them for it.

He would brew himself a Dreamless and go to bed. Report in the morning. He knew he shouldn't dose himself again, but… this torture had been reminiscent of some of his earlier ones, and he wouldn't lie awake all night twitching and remembering the first night he had failed his master.

Severus did not hope that Hermione would be waiting for him, despite her words. He had been gone hours, and besides, the chit had probably realised that she was waiting for a Death Eater to come back… She would be thinking about all the horrors she had read of and seen, and wondering which ones he had committed, whose blood he had spilt that night…

Which is why, when he gained the potion's lab and saw that he was not alone, his wand was in his hand before his brain caught up.

She was sleeping on one of the stools, her jumper folded up beneath her bushy head and kept in place by one arm. He could barely make out her form underneath his heavy black cloak, which she had clearly pulled on for warmth.

This was the witch he would marry. He sighed. If the Dark Lord lost she would be stuck with him until he finally keeled over of old age, and if he won she would be dead. Poor child. Best to let her sleep, to hide from her the truth. At least for tonight.

He pulled a cauldron over to an unlit fire and she mumbled something in her sleep. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Granger?" He prompted. She murmured in response and pushed his arm away. He winced. "Miss Granger." He said more strongly.

She rose, brushing her long hair away from her face as she did it. And then that face lit up. "You're back." He rolled his eyes and tried again to lift the cauldron onto the fire. Sweat erupted from his form but he couldn't make it all the way. The tremours hadn't faded yet, clearly.

"My god, you're hurt." She said, throwing his cloak off and hurrying towards him. "Crucio?"

Severus nodded and gritted his teeth.

"Here, let me help." She took the cauldron from him and placed it over the fire. If he'd been able to open his jaw he would have rebuked her, but since it was clenched tightly shut he couldn't say a word. She watched him for a moment, then wrapped him in the warming charmed cloak and rubbed his hands between hers. "What were you making? Some form of pain relief?"

He glared at her. He couldn't trust himself to try and speak. Instead he stared into her eyes and shoved the thought into her. "Dreamless."

She bit her lip, frowning as the thought caused pain to ripple across her skull. "I'm not sure that's safe, sir. If you take a Dreamless Sleep without addressing the trauma, you could bite your own tongue off in your sleep."

He scowled at her again. Wouldn't the chit ever learn. It wasn't like it mattered, as long as he was asleep he wouldn't feel the pain and it wasn't as if he couldn't grow it back.

Her gaze softened and he realised he was still thrusting his thoughts towards her. Horrified, he slammed the connection shut. She nodded. "I'll do it, sir."

He worked on massaging his jaw muscles as she began preparing the ingredients. Usually, he would have some of this in his personal stores but he'd used it up last night when memories had surfaced. Memories of Frank Longbottom trying desperately to protect his wife. He needed to be careful to ensure he wasn't becoming an addict again.

She kept glancing at him under her brown lashes as she worked.

"Miss Granger, eyes on the potion please." He ground out. It made him feel so much better to be in control of his voice. "It wouldn't do to explain how you lost a digit, would it?"

She grinned at him cheekily before focusing more keenly on the leaves she was dicing. "I'll have this bottled and ready for you on your nightstand once you get back, sir. If you'll allow me to enter your room?" Now he was quite convinced Granger was happy she had an excuse to avoid his gaze. "It would save you several flights of stairs after your meeting with the Headmaster. Assuming you'll use the library floo? He's gone back to Hogwarts for something."

Severus nodded curtly, and decided she was right: if he spoke to Albus now he would have no reason to be up in the morning, and the potion would take some time to brew regardless. He had no qualms about leaving her alone with her work, having been treating her more as an independent colleague than a student under his tutelage for months now. Given the way she still seemed to be paying far more attention to him than the potion, even with her eyes studiously cast down, she might be even more competent if he wasn't there.

"Fine, Miss Granger. You may leave it on my nightstand."

He rose, his knees sharply reminding him of the service they had endured earlier, and sighing turned to the stairs. He could feel her eyes on him as he took them one at a time, and flushed. He was as weak as a newborn kitten and Granger couldn't fail to notice. Not a great impression of her future husband. A twinge of guilt flooded through his much abused chest and he paused.

"Granger," He said. Her head bobbed up. "The Dark Lord and I discussed you. I have to report to Dumbledore about it first, but... " Severus sighed. "I thought you should know." Honestly he wasn't sure what was more honourable in this situation, tell her or his boss first. But maybe Dumbledore would see a way out of this… plan.

He waited for the questions to bubble out of her, but she remained oddly silent. She merely nodded and thanked him before turning back to her brewing. Hell of a witch.

It was over an hour later before Severus finally made it back to his room at Grimmauld, eyes burning and limbs still clenching in pain. Dumbledore had been less than pleased with the Dark Lord's planned marriage and had pretty much ordered Severus to ignore it. Which he was not going to do: he was loyal but not to the point of suicide, and he knew he provided more alive than dead. At least until the end of the war.

He'd not told the Headmaster about the Cruciatus and Dumbledore had pretended not to notice that Severus' limbs flailed mutinously.

His fireplace was lit, and the room was a comfortable temperature instead of its normal dark, cold state. It felt oddly comfortable. He unbuttoned his shirt.

Severus was surprised that the chit hadn't waited for him here, questions overflowing. He knew if she were here, he couldn't have waited. He would have stayed up to tell her the plan, try and comfort her when she panicked, and brainstorm solutions together. But there was no sign of her - no sign other than the lit fireplace and the two vials of potion on his nightstand.

Shrugging the shirt from his shoulders and leaving it crumpled on the floor, he assessed them. She hadn't labelled them. The purple was clearly a Sleepless, and the second… he unstoppered it carefully and breathed in a little. Camomile and cherry were an odd combination. His brow creased as he pondered the pink potion and slid his socks off. It was a little more viscous than the Dreamless, and given that combination of ingredients… A muscle relaxant, of course. And now that he was sitting on the bed, he noticed that wasn't the only thing on his nightstand - a small, clear, circular box was almost hidden behind the vials.

He took a full dosage from each - truthfully a double dosage of dreamless, he had built up a tolerance - and carefully unhooked the box. Inside nestled a clear, horseshoe shaped thing. He frowned, and noticed that underneath the jelly horseshoe was a note of instructions. 'Place in mouth and bite down as shown. The activation to bind to your teeth is aptare. This mouthguard should be used whenever playing impact sports such as quidditch in order to protect the teeth and tongue."

He grimaced even as his heart warmed. Traitorous thing. The chit was merely worried he wouldn't be able to teach potions if he bit it off, that was all. She was probably laughing about Snape lying in bed wearing a mouthguard to her despicable chums. His teeth were nothing worth protecting.

A spasm shot through his arm and he nearly dropped the damn present. "Careful", he chided himself. He placed it gently around his teeth and said the charm, then bit down. The heat and sensation of his teeth being hugged caused a spasm of fear to shoot up his spine - was this something charmed to remove his teeth? Colour them blue? - but the sensation lasted only a few moments and the fear dissolved a few seconds later after he checked himself in the mirror.

He lifted a corner of the cover and slipped underneath. His bed was even warmer than the room. Curious. He slid back out and the warmth disappeared. Not bothering to reach for his wand, he cast a detection spell on the covers. A certain witch - for who else could it be - had charmed his bed to be warm.

Sighing, he returned to his sheets with a smile plastered across his dour features, feeling his muscles relaxing into the warmth. Give the woman an inch and she'd take a mile.

* * *

AN: Voldemort is much, much easier and more natural to write than the Dark Lord, but we all know Severus would never address him as such and try to avoid thinking of him that way, especially while face-to-face. My fingers suffer for you. Also, Severus would not unstopper and sniff an unknown potion unless he trusted the source, ergo... Also, I apologise for the slight delay in posting this chapter, I was travelling for work and utterly exhausted. Hopefully that is over and done with now!


	7. Chapter 7: The First Proposal

Severus woke up with his stomach in knots, drenched in sweat. He dragged himself upright, one hand protectively curled against his stomach, and tried to relax. His face curled up into a scowl. The covers underneath his hand were soaked and warm, and he thrust the duvet to the bottom of the bed in a lump with his feet.

Today he was going to try and persuade Hermione Granger to marry him. A knife of pain shot up his back at the thought and he closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He needed only a few clear-minded moments to Occlude away the anxiety.

His thoughts whirled around him, not giving him the purchase he needed. She was going to laugh at him, he knew that - in fact, he had already forgiven her for it. He could work with her laughter, persuade the intellectual inside her. And he knew she would not laugh the same way Potter or the Weasley would once they heard - another spasm rocked him.

Severus had suffered through enough of these attacks to know that it wasn't real, this pain - but it bloody well felt real. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

If she only chuckled, he could cope. But if her eyes reflected disgust, if she looked at him with those big brown eyes widened with horror at the thought… well, he wasn't quite sure that disappointing his dark master was the worse option.

But no, he knew that in order to win the war, he needed to stay within his Master's inner circle. Severus would have to dance a pretty dance if he failed to even ask her. And after what Dumbledore had said...

Deep fucking breath. He could do this.

Slowly, his shields clicked back into place, protecting his own mind from the insanity that lurked beneath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to plot a rational approach. This was the noble thing to do, so that her decision could be made knowing all the options. If, after she heard him out, she decided she couldn't do it… Well, then he would hear out the Headmaster's plan.

He could always bring her breakfast, if it were still early enough, and tell her that they needed to talk. She would gaze up at him and -

He felt his thoughts pressing against the barrier and sighed. Evidently he was not going to be allowed to plan this one out.

Dragging himself out of bed and sending the two empty vials back to the lab, he regarded the clear mouthguard with interest. It would serve him well on nights like last night, and was therefore a thoughtful gift. Even if he had spat it out at some point during the night.

Perhaps he ought to gift her something in return. It might make his suite more appealing if he accompanied it with a rare book from his collection and sneakily worked in the fact that his library would be hers once they were married.

Somehow he doubted Miss Granger was quite so mercenary as to allow merely the books to persuade her, but perhaps it would tip the odds.

He pinched again, harder. He could feel the headache he often endured following Crucio-heavy nights hovering in the shadows and whilst he wanted to avoid it Pain Relievers were another potion he was becoming too dependent on.

He'd read of Potion's Masters who grew so sick and addicted to that which they brewed that they gave up on real life, consuming pint after pint of dreamless and more arcane potions for merely an hour of rest or fantasy at a time.

He would not be like them, not until they had lost this damn war.

The air here was blessedly cool against his skin as he walked stiltedly towards the bathroom he had demanded be his alone - conditions of his staying in this godforsaken house over the summer. His knees were still not quite bending. Damn things carried a grudge as well as he did.

Leaning his forehead against the shower tiles, he allowed the warm water to stream down, sticking his black hair to his face. It was only now as he felt the heat soften his knees that he thought to wonder how the Granger girl had known that heat would help with his tremors. He should ask her. It seemed important.

The thought faded as he massaged his neck, hoping that the headache would bugger off. It did not, although he did note that it wasn't, at least, getting worse.

How many more months of this could his body take before it finally gave up, he wondered. How many more weeks until his knees no longer unlocked and his shields no longer came down, and all he felt every day were the aftereffects of the crucio chasing itself up and down his spine?

Would his mind break, would he join the Longbottoms?

Would that be better?

He shook himself and turned his attention to the dregs of his collection he'd brought with him to Grimmauld - what would the chit find interesting? Perhaps Ermine's treatise on the benefits and dangers of teaching potions to young children. But that seemed too… presumptuous. As though he were asking her to provide him with children. Aurette's study of recreational potions and side-effects was also worth a read, but he didn't want Granger to think he were some kind of drug addict.

He pulled himself out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips. He dried his hands carefully.

His fingers traced the bindings on the bookshelf - some leather, some wood, some darker substances - and tried to think of what he would want, were he Miss Granger. Nothing of his collection came to mind. His fingers paused and, lifting his head, he saw that he caressed an old muggle book he had rescued from his mother's belongings when she had died. Pride & Prejudice.

He smirked. Seemed somehow appropriate.

His nerves seemed a little quieter now, and with a complex motion involving three fingers and a spiral, he summoned a hot cup of tea from downstairs. He cracked open the book and began reading, his lips quirking as he drew parallels between the way he and Miss Granger had reconnected over the summer and the too formal introductions between the Austen characters.

Perhaps she would appreciate the irony.

It was only once the tea grew cold that he realised he was procrastinating. The chit would be pacing a hole through the earth soon if he didn't go and talk to her. Sighing, Severus stood up, cursing his knees. He walked the length of the room to remove their stiffness - he wouldn't appear weak before anyone in this house - and sighed again before he opened the door. Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

Hermione was, as he expected, in the lab. It had become usual for him, to open the door and feel her presence, smell her hair or hear her humming to fill the silence. Now, he was going to talk to her and she was probably never coming back to his little haven - not that he minded the loneliness. He was alone most of the time he wasn't teaching, after all. He'd been brewing for the Order alone for so many years he could barely remember how to be mindful of another person. But it would certainly be... different.

He knew, objectively, that she was only here to hear an explanation - after the very real manifestation of his other duties last night she would probably be scared witless. But if there were one thing the Granger girl excelled at, it was being courageous in the hunt for answers.

He hovered at the bottom of the stairs, studying her through the doorway to the store cupboard. She had a piece of paper hovering to her right at roughly head height, and another one attached to a clipboard resting on her knee. She was flicking her eyes between the two and the shelf of potion ingredients, clearly taking inventory. It was a task he had been planning to do for a few days now but kept putting off. He smiled.

"Miss Granger, a word?" He asked softly.

She jumped, and turned to him, but her lips continued to mouth numbers. "Just a moment, sir. Sorry. Don't want to lose count." And she turned back to the inventory. The paper above her head - he still hadn't quite figured out what it was, although it appeared to be colour coded - fluttered and she swore and made a note.

Then she lay both the clipboard and her flying paper down on a shelf and emerged into the lab properly.

She was in her favourite sweater and it clung to her and suddenly all he wanted to do was feel how soft it was against his fingers.

Focus, man.

"Miss Granger, please, take a seat. Thank you for doing the inventory."

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, sir. After I took advantage of your supplies last night, I thought I should do a full inventory before I ordered more. I compared the ingredients we need for the rest of the requests from Madam Pomfrey with what we have on stock, and there are a few places we were running low. I'll…" Here she flicked her tongue across her lower lip nervously. Severus' eyes tracked it for a moment. "I'll pay for the replacements myself, sir, since I brewed additional potions last night."

"You will do no such thing, Miss Granger. I am compensated by the Headmaster for any orders. Besides, I required those potions in the carrying out of my duties."

Her eyes darted to his and down again.

"Thank you, sir."

Silence. Severus was still awkwardly standing at the bottom of the stairs. He had half a mind to flee back up them and leave Hermione here alone, to get as far away from the Order and his Dark Lord as he could and die in peace. Unfortunately the Dark Mark made hiding… difficult.

"As you know, Miss Granger-"

"Hermione, please." She interrupted. He waited for the rage to wash over him over the interruption, but it didn't come. "'Miss Granger' makes me feel as though I've done something wrong."

He swallowed thickly. "Hermione, I went to the Dark Lord last night. He and I had a long conversation about you. Albus would rather I didn't tell you, but I think it is important that you know, so that you can act with all the facts in mind. You are an adult now, no longer a child, and... "

She frowned. "If you will get in trouble for telling me…"

"That is my decision to make." He felt so old, all of a sudden. She worried about him getting in trouble over disobeying Dumbledore, and he worried about dying for setting a foot wrong with his other master. This was wrong. She was too innocent to be dragged into this.

And yet he was going to tell her anyway.

Coward.

She nodded and thought for a moment, her lips pinched together in a way that reminded him strongly of Minerva. Minerva! Damn. She was going to murder him for this, this tainting of her favourite student…

"Have you been asked to kill me?" She asked.

He blinked.

There was no tension in her as she asked, her eyes wide and trusting, her face open. He was completely stunned and for a second couldn't inhale.

"No." He barked out, "No, Miss Granger. He has not asked me to do… that."

She sagged in front of him. "That's good." She smiled up at him. "I'm not sure I would know how to handle that." There was a moment where he was staring into her eyes, into her relief, before it tightened up around him and he could feel her fear pressing against his chest. "And my parents?"

He surged across the room and grabbed her arms. Later, he would blame it on the unconscious legilimency, on feeling her fear as his own, but the truth was he reacted without thought. "Miss Granger, the Dark Lord has not asked me to murder anyone you know." She breathed a long sigh of relief and he smiled. "Not even Potter, surprisingly."

"Really?"

"Really. When you start teaching at Hogwarts, you take a blood oath to the castle and the Headmaster to protect all the students within. I take it seriously."

"But then, how did Quirrell..?"

"The Dark Lord didn't take any such vow, so when he controlled the vessel…" He trailed off, allowing her mind to make the next logical leaps by itself.

They stood, quiet for a moment, his hands still resting against that soft, cashmere jumper, when the door slammed open and they jumped guilty apart.

"Hermione, are you down here?" Molly Weasley called out. Severus' eyes widened.

"Molly," He greeted her.

"Ah, there you are girl. How nice to see you. Severus."

The insufferable woman dragged Hermione into a hug, drowning the poor girl in her robes.

"I came down to apologise. I am so terribly sorry for what I said during the Order meeting. Arthur and I discussed it, and felt that I owed you an apology. I was just surprised, that was all."

Severus rolled his eyes and began preparing a cauldron - if nothing else, the act of brewing should keep him from Stunning her again, at least as long as she avoided ignorantly insulting one of his brightest students.

"Well," She continued when Hermione didn't respond. "I'm glad that's sorted. I really did feel awful about the whole thing, but it's in the past now."

Hermione made an animal-like squeak that Mrs Weasley clearly took for agreement, and Severus recognised as annoyance. She finally let go, and allowed Hermione to slide back into her stool.

"Well, I'll let you get back to brewing your little potions with Severus." She actually pat Hermione's head and walked quickly back up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Severus and Hermione exchanged a look and burst out laughing.

It had been a long time since Severus had laughed, and the sheer pleasure of it seemed to melt away the headache that had followed him all morning.

"Well, that was… something else." Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "I think she just stole a forgiveness somehow?"

"That woman…" He shook his head. "I don't even have the words to describe it. She's so caught up in herself she can't see anything she does as wrong."

Hermione snorted, and for a few minutes they were silent, little puffs of amusement escaping her at intervals. Then she looked up at him intently. He slowly put down the knife.

"So, he doesn't want me dead." She said. "Then what?"

Severus sighed.

"He wants me to marry you."

He looked up into her still, pale face and was surprised that he had finally, after many long years of trying, rendered Hermione Granger speechless.

Ducking his head to hide behind his hair, he filled the silence with a rush of words. Awkwardness curled up his chest. "I know that I was on your list of undesirables, and believe me, I understand why. But I can put forward a strong case for your consideration, besides that which my master wishes me to do."

"Professor Snape, I-"

"Please, hear me out."

He dared a glance up at her, and saw that her lips were pressed together. This was his chance.

"I am a trained Potion's Master, an academic, and a reader. We can talk about books, or research, or potions. I can cook and do household charms adequately. I'd never think of hindering your contributions to the Order or your career. You would never need to worry about my fidelity, but I will not ask that the appropriate fidelity charms be placed on you during our wedding." He felt bile rising in his throat, but pushed on. "I would never force myself on you or raise my hand to you. I have demonstrated some control over my anger, and know to remove myself from a situation when it becomes too intense." He maintained his stare at the floor and sucked in air. "I have adequate funds to support you, should you wish to pursue further education, and have some contacts in that field. I would not require you to give me children, and..." He paused. "And, honestly, given the role that I play… I would not burden you for long, Miss Granger. No matter who wins the war, I will probably not live for a very long time. You don't see many old spies. Both sides are suspicious of me, and will have no more use for me if the war ends. Play your cards right and you can survive either scenario, either as the woman who put the Order first or as a Death Eater's right-hand." He darted another look up at her, and saw that she was sitting patiently, waiting for him to finish. It gave him the surge of confidence he needed to continue talking. If she interrupted him he would have withered.

"That isn't to say that I think this is the best path for you. There are several concerns which need to be weighed - primarily, and most obviously, I am a Death Eater. I use Dark Magic regularly, and you would probably be exposed to that. You will not need to care for me as you did last night, at least not regularly - I have been managing that alone for many years. But you would need to see or hear it, which I imagine would not be… comfortable. And the Dark Lord asked me to marry you in part in order to spy more closely on Harry now that you are graduated. That means that you and I will work closely in order to feed him false memories with misleading information - or, decide between ourselves and Albus which of the facts we should share. It is a weighty burden."

A heavy silence seeped into the lab and Severus allowed Hermione the chance to think about what he was saying. It was uncomfortable, displaying this much of his thought process to another, and something he did so rarely he found himself wishing he had hidden the darker corners. But no, he was doing this because she deserved to make her decision knowing everything that he did. At least she hadn't laughed at him yet.

The door of his lab flew open again, and Severus considered bitterly whether to install automatic wards. He'd never had to think of it before the chit had started working here - nobody ever wanted to visit him.

And there was Dumbledore standing at the top of the stairs, vibrating with anger and levitating his way down them. Severus rolled his eyes. The man could be needlessly dramatic and these shows of power, tiresome.

Then Severus couldn't really think anymore as the force of the Headmaster's anger dragged him across the room and pressed him by the throat against the cool stones of the dungeon wall. Hermione shrieked.

"Severus Snape, how dare you?" Dumbledore spat. Severus opened his mouth to answer but discovered he could only croak. "I gave you explicit orders to leave the poor girl alone."

"Headmaster!" Hermione shouted. Albus ignored her.

"I…" Severus attempted, but again the force of the Headmaster's magic cut him off.

"When Molly came to me and told me she caught you two in a tete-a-tete I hardly believed it, Severus. I trusted you. I asked you not to speak with Miss Granger. She is just a child, you cannot possibly be thinking of actually marrying her?" His vision was greying at the edges, but he could see a mop of ginger hair quivering with excitement at the top of the stairs.

Finally, he released his hold around Severus' throat and allowed him to slither down the wall. Severus' knees could not catch him, and, disgruntled, he collapsed to the ground. Pride and Prejudice slipped from his pocket.

"Headmaster, she is 19. Legally, no longer a child-" The invisible ropes constricted again. Severus felt his rage curling in his gut. He was accustomed to letting other wizards bat him around with magic, torture him, and never raise a finger back, but the Headmaster had no right…

"Some excuse!" Molly said, "You still call Fred and George children." Her eyes darkened with suspicion. "Just how long have you been admiring Miss Granger?"

Severus knew, intellectually, that the woman was trying to get a rise out of him, but that didn't stop the madness waiting deep inside. It erupted, throwing the Headmaster's chains away from him and propelling Severus upright and a few centimetres from the ground in unconscious magic.

"How dare you?" He spat. "I gave no thought to marrying Miss Granger until the Dark Lord asked it of me."

"How convenient." She smirked. "You always did prefer the Muggleborns."

He still had enough self-control not to lash out at her, directing the full force of his rage into the Headmaster, forcing him backwards. Molly gasped.

"I am not some abused dog!" He spat out. "If you push me, Albus, eventually I will stop begging at your heels for the scraps of comfort you offer and go elsewhere."

Albus studied him as Severus' magic broke around his shields, choppy and grey.

"There are only so many times you can kick me before I bite back." The Dark in him rose up underneath the waves of magic like something primordial and he let it brush up against Dumbledore's shields. He was shaking with the effort it took to control himself, hair dripping with sweat and jaw clenched tightly into a snarl. It wanted revenge. He wanted revenge.

The next time he spoke his voice was velvet. "I have given you everything. You ask that I return to the Dark Lord and tell him that I failed, knowing that he will kill me, that you will lose your ability to shield Potter through my efforts. I choose to disobey."

Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the anger was gone. The room cleared of their magic as Severus and Albus lowered gently to the floor. Albus nodded.

"I am sorry, my boy. I forgot…" He stroked his beard. "I just worry for you. I know your depth of feeling towards Lily, and I fear for Hermione. She will never be first in your affections, and that is a hard thing for a wife to learn."

Severus flinched.

"But you are right. If you marry Miss Granger, you maintain the position you have occupied for some time, able to stand between the Dark Lord and young Potter and misdirect where needed." His eyes softened. "I leave it up to you."

Severus swallowed, his throat raw. "Did you mean what you said last night? About... Lily?"

Albus inclined his head. "I think Lily will be shocked that you are thinking of marrying her son's best friend." He stopped, thinking. "But in time, she will come to forgive you."

"Forgive…" Severus shook himself. "Perhaps we should ask Miss Granger what she thinks?"

He turned towards her chair, and saw it had been knocked over in his struggle with the Headmaster. The potion he had started during Molly's first visit was belching black smoke into the air as it burnt.

And Hermione wasn't in the lab anymore. She had fled during their fight.

Bollocks.


	8. Chapter 8: A Conversation In A Library

**AN: Before we begin, yes, I did skip last week. I'm terribly sorry. I was sent away with work again. As an introvert, spending every waking moment with a group of colleagues was draining, no matter how enjoyable their company.**

 **But I'm back, and I'm _so_ happy with how this chapter went. Thank you for all your reviews for the previous 7 chapters, and I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! Now that I'm in a routine again with my waking up consistently, I'll hopefully be able to keep to the schedule.**

 **Oh, and I'm going to buy myself a laptop so I can write on my commute. Or at least, that's the plan.**

 **Have an absolutely lovely week everybody, and please leave a review!**

* * *

Severus took the stairs two at a time, allowing the anger in his chest to burn away his fear. If Dumbledore hadn't interrupted… Damn it all. Now the chit had seen him being chastised like an errant schoolboy - if there were ever a chance that she would say yes, this would probably have ruined it.

He grabbed Kreacher by the scruff of the neck as the house elf streaked past and into the kitchen. "Where's the girl?" He snarled.

"The mudblood is in the library, nasty little thing. Touching all the mistress' books, she is. Defiling them."

Severus felt his anger rise and then disapparate. If he took it out on Kreacher, then he was no less of a bully than he was pathetic - not that that had stopped him before. His magic was snapping around him, eager to be let free after that taste downstairs.

He sucked in a deep breath and nodded, releasing the creature. Kreacher pulled his ear and slipped away.

Sighing, Severus pulled his cloak over his shoulders and climbed the stairs to the library. He was a little out of breath after the show of magic he'd endured down there, both his own and the Headmaster's, so he took the creaking stairs slowly.

What would be her response to his speech? The woman was intelligent if nothing else, she would see what a great boon this would be for the light. On the other hand, this was a sacrifice bigger than she'd ever been asked to make before: not just her life on the line, but her future happiness.

He pushed open the door hesitantly. She was perched on the windowsill, her hair rustling in the light breeze from the opened window. The sunlight pooled around her, contrasting her against the malaise of the house. He was struck dumb at the sight of her, at the realisation of his grave error, even as he soaked in the vision.

Her skin shone a deep brown against her yellow tank top and white skirt, which folded in pleats. Her legs were crossed at the knee, and the skirt copied the hair in drifting lazily. Her fingers tapped the journal-now-cookbook, which she was holding to her chest as a child might hold a teddy bear.

He cleared his throat, and she turned to him. The darkness of the room enveloped her as she slipped down.

"Professor Snape." Her tone was light, as though nothing had happened downstairs, but she stayed at the window. He forced himself to step further into the room.

"Miss Granger." He said, his mouth dry. Fool man. "I wanted to apologise."

"What for?"

He stared at her. "For what happened downstairs. I lost control, after only recently expounding to you the virtues of control. It was un…" He paused. He had wanted to say unseemly, but that was old fashioned, picked up from his morning reading. "Unprofessional."

"I'm surprised you didn't hex him." She smiled impishly, and he felt emboldened to walk the rest of the way across the room and join her at the window. At least here he could stare out into the street.

"He would have deserved it…" He muttered darkly. Then winced. It probably wasn't the best way to apologise for having exploded dark magic everywhere - threatening to hex one of the girl's favourite authority figures.

She giggled. Severus blinked.

"There's no need to apologise. Although I understand what you meant about Krum now - if that was controlled Dark, I have no wish to see it given its head, so to speak."

He glanced to her, and saw that the hairs on her arms had lifted up despite the heat.

"Yes, well." He had never felt so thrown off guard, and could feel his shields forming to protect him. He wanted to ask her what her response was to the proposal - if only to put himself out of this misery of hope and fear - but she spoke before he found the words.

"Did the Headmaster come around?"

An old man was walking up the road slowly, a cane supporting his left leg and a shopping bag hanging from his left arm.

"I think… I managed to persuade him."

Hermione was looking at him - he could feel the weight of her gaze on his face - but the plastic bag was swinging hypnotically. It wasn't that he was scared to meet her gaze.

"You managed to persuade him…" She repeated thoughtfully. "You're lucky. I'm not sure I've ever heard of the Headmaster being swayed before."

He tore his eyes from the old man and back to her. They were once again too close - she'd hopped back up onto the windowsill while they'd been talking and his fingers were a breath away from brushing hers. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

"What do you mean?"

"He's manipulative. And callous. He has a plan and won't deviate from it for anybody."

He frowned. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to worship him."

"This is the man who left me as a statue and a cat for the majority of my second year. I had a lot of time to think about why he would do such a thing. All summer, while I was playing catch-up, in fact, as well as a huge chunk of that hospitalised time where I couldn't move."

Her voice hardened, and her eyes had a dangerous glint in them that Severus hadn't seen before.

"I'm sure the Headmaster would have freed you if he could." Severus said, haltingly. He wasn't sure it was true. Every time he'd had an hour spare to work on the experimental potion to bring Miss Granger back to her human, non-statue self throughout March, the Headmaster had sent him on a wild goose chase looking for the heir of Slytherin among his students.

Hermione smiled, her lips pressed together. "If it had served his purpose, perhaps. But I think he quite liked having Harry fending for himself. It taught him not to depend on anyone, and gave him something to fight for. The Headmaster admitted it - not in so many words - when he was taking me to see my parents. 'I know you are angry, Miss Granger, but Harry came through for us'. He uses people. Like giving Harry that damned cloak."

"Ah, the cloak of invisibility." Severus felt his bitterness rise in the back of his throat at all the trouble that had brought - both during his school years and once Potter was back in his classes. "A rule-breaker's dream."

"Exactly! Who on earth gives that to a child in a magical and dangerous school?"

Severus didn't respond, his eyes drawn to the leaves of a tree across the road. The Headmaster had been manipulating him, during their fight and last night, he realised suddenly. And Severus had managed to persuade him - that was why he had backed down so suddenly. He had no doubts that if the Headmaster thought it better for Harry Potter that his best friend marry somebody not quite so repellent, then he could have banished Severus from the house as soon as his magic reared its head.

He groaned. It was an unintended, feral noise that caused Hermione to jump.

"Quite right, Miss Granger. Quite right."

She turned to stare out into the street alongside him, their shoulders touching briefly before he shuffled awkwardly to the side to make room for her. He could feel the Cooling charms rapidly fading.

"I suppose you should call me Hermione, after what happened."

He dipped his head, allowing his hair to shield his face from her. He focussed on his breathing to dispel the small smile that wanted to crinkle his lips upwards - she wasn't saying yes, he reminded himself. He was overthinking this. But she also wasn't laughing or throwing up, both huge wins, so he couldn't prevent the smile spilling out from his eyes.

"I should apologise to you as well." She said softly. He darted a glance at her from between his locks, her face stately in profile. "I didn't think you'd seen your name in the lists."

"Ah," His heart squeezed in pain. "No need."

"I think there is." She turned to him, a strap of her top slipping distractedly down her shoulder as she did so. She didn't notice. "I put you on that list - alongside Lupin and Minerva - because I thought that having a relationship with a recently graduated pupil would destroy your career. I didn't think for a second that you would agree to sacrificing your solitude to rescue me, particularly given how important that solitude is to your duties to the order. If I had known you'd seen it, I would have explained sooner. So," She took in a deep breath and let it shudder out. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. And thank you for trying to help me."

"Severus."

"Sorry?"

"I'm no longer your professor. In fact, I am your suitor." His lips curled around the word sensuously and he blushed at how ridiculous this was - first, Austen was spoiling his vocabulary towards the absurdly romantic, and second, he'd never thought of himself as anybody's suitor before. "And therefore, you ought to call me Severus."

"I suppose it would be a little odd if we were to marry, and I were to still call you Professor Snape."

He shuddered in disgust. "Very, very odd." He agreed, lips curling.

She pursed hers. "Harry isn't going to like this."

"Like what?"

"Our marriage?"

His heart stopped beating. "You haven't said yes."

"You haven't actually asked." She rebutted.

Relief radiated through his body. He slipped onto one knee. "Hermione Granger, would you do this old Potions teacher the honour of fulfilling your ministry-ordained duties and becoming my wife?"

For a moment, he thought he'd taken the sarcasm too far - maybe she was the type of woman who wanted a fairytale wedding and a romantic proposal she could tell all her friends about. After all, he only ever teased Minerva, and that was infrequent: he could easily have misread the conversation.

She laughed, joyously and without self-consciousness, and he felt his chest tighten. This could still be a joke, couldn't it? She was planning to sell these bloody memories, auction them off: he was sure they'd fetch a lot. Plenty of enemies in this profession.

"I find myself in need of a good anchor to wizarding society." She said. "So yes, I will marry you."

He stood, masking the difficulties he had with straightening said bended knee by gripping the windowsill tightly, and smiled stupidly at her. He slapped his lips together quickly, before she saw the crooked yellow mess she'd promised herself to. Weren't her parents dentists? He vaguely remembered Minerva talking about it before, during the teeth incident of their second year. A bead of sweat slipped down his nose. He hurried to fill the silence. "When shall we complete the engagement? I believe you have until the end of summer before the Ministry start chasing you, so that's two months, month and a half?"

"I'd rather not wait. No offense, sir, but given the political climate, you could be sent away from Hogwarts at any moment, were someone to learn of your… brand. So, it's best we were joined quickly."

"Very self-serving." He meant it as a compliment, but saw her wince. Gryffindors. "I agree with you. We should get it over with. Which means I should let Albus and Minerva know that you've accepted my suite."

"Your suite?" She asked, her eyes dancing.

Sighing, he Accio'd the book and handed it to her with a small bow. She grinned up at him, her fingers caressing the page. "Which couple are we?" She asked.

He ignored the question, ridiculous as it was.

"I forgot to mention that our marriage will allow you access to my substantial library." He said. "I will ensure that the more dangerous books are secured for now. If you wish to peruse them later, I will be happy to teach you how to read them - but only if you are trained properly. I have enough other books to keep you occupied for a time regardless, and in addition if you reside with me in Hogwarts you will have access to the school library at all times."

Her eyes lit up, as he had expected them to, but he felt an odd gladness that it had slipped his mind earlier - she had agreed to marry him without the additional incentive. That was worth something.

"Can I see them? Your collection?"

"Not before we are married. I told you, I need to make preparations. Besides, some of them attack all but the family they belong to when you look at them."

Her eyebrows raised but the gleam of excitement didn't fade. He wondered if she'd ever leave his library.

"Are you free this Saturday?" She asked impulsively.

"We have brewing to do, as well you know, Miss Granger." He said. "However, I shall speak to Madame Pompfrey and Dumbledore, and see if the school can stretch to buying in a few additional potions to cover our absence."

"You know as well as I do that we're stocking up for more than a year's supply of potions." She pointed out, her arms crossed across her chest. "We are stocking up for war."

He did know that, although he hadn't realised she'd figured it out. "Well, the war won't wait another day so we can get married."

"And we have already stocked twice as many potions as we need for the school year. There's not an end to this. We'll be brewing every day until the war begins anyway. Let's take a day for ourselves."

"And do what?"

"Get married!"

"Ah." He paused for a moment. "That is quite soon. Are you sure you don't want some time to reconsider?"

She laughed, her head tilting back and exposing her throat to him. He had an irrational urge to smell it, as though it were a rare ingredient. He curled his hands into fists instead. He would not start taking liberties with her just because they were married - it was a marriage of convenience, not a love match. He could respect that, and her.

"I think we're good. I have a library to get to."

He couldn't help but grin back at her. His heart felt like it was ballooning up, out of his chest. Like this wasn't just a marriage to placate his dark Master and infuriate the other, but the possibility of partnership. Severus Snape was letting himself hope.

Hermione grimaced. "I really don't want to tell Harry and Ron."

Ice formed around his chest. It was expected that the chit would be ashamed of him, he reminded himself, struggling to stay calm. After the battle of wills downstairs, his magic was snapping at the leash to get free again. She was young, bright, untainted.

She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at a clump of it and sighed, twisting back to stare out of the window again. Her fingers beat out a pattern of drums on the cook book.

"If Potter and Weasley have complaints," Severus said, cooly. "Then I am happy to take them. Preferably somewhere quite remote."

She gasped and then giggled. "The complaints or the boys?" She asked, her grin wide and fleeting. Her eyes danced with amusement.

Severus hadn't been so fascinated by a woman in decades. Since before she was born. The thought brought him up short, frayed at his new-born joy.

"Hermione-" He began.

"Hermione! There you are!" Harry Potter barreled into the room in a haze of arms and legs, stopping short when he saw that she wasn't alone. He nodded in a parody of respect to his old professor. "Snape."

Hermione nudged him gently with her shoulder. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I can see you two have a lot to catch up on. I will get started on the preparation we discussed, Miss Granger. Good day, Potter."

"Severus, are you free tonight?" She asked as he reached the door. He nodded curtly, but didn't turn around.

"Severus?" Harry whispered, just loud enough for Severus to hear. "Since when are you calling him Severus?"

Severus smirked.


	9. Chapter 9: A Wedding To Plan

"Severus,

My parents are insufferable. My mother swings from being happy I found a man at all to interrogating me on our relationship. Ever since I told them about the Marriage Law they've been trying to persuade me to snap my wand, and my mother is convinced I have gone a bit balmy.

If I have, it's because she has driven me to it.

At least my father is consistently disapproving.

I am sorry we didn't get the chance to chat for longer on Tuesday afternoon, but after Harry went ahead and told them...

Anyway, that wasn't why I wrote to you - I need your help. Planning a wedding is exhausting and I've been dragged around 10 venues today. I can't do that again. They were the only ones she found that were still free on Saturday. I tried to tell her I didn't really want a ceremony at all but she started whining 'Oooooh Hermiiioooneeeee, you're my only daughter and you won't even let me see you get married'.

See, it will be a wonder if I come back sane.

So we need a small venue. I suppose at least 3 of my friends and Professor McGonagall will come. I don't know how many you'd like to invite, but can you rent a venue for me and send back the floor plan? I'm swamped with about a thousand other things to decide, I have an appointment today so I don't have time for yet another goosechase, and I don't give a flying fig regardless. Oh, and somebody to register us, I have no idea how any of that works in the Wizarding World so I'm afraid that responsibility falls to you.

I have to sign off now, dear anchor. We have somebody bringing cakes around the house for me to try. I wish we had eloped.

Best,

Hermione"

The panic in her letter made Severus chuckle a little in the dark of his rooms. He'd retired up here after the potion he'd been experimenting with as a distraction while the chit was gone, an explosive for breaching walls, had blown up during a critical stage in the brewing process.

The house had tremoured as though an earthquake had hit it, and Molly Weasley's voice had been heard yelling "George? Fred?" even from the basement.

Seconds later the pair of Weasley's had been in the lab, grins stretching their cheeks ear-to-ear.

"Whattcha Snape."

"What was that?"

"Sounded... fun."

Severus, his hands burnt and his face decidedly pink, had just scowled at them from his stool.

"Where's the burn salve, Snape?" One of them had said.

"Here Fred." Fred threw it across the room to George.

"Nice one George." George acknowledged, unscrewing the lid and offering the cool contents to Severus.

He'd been desperate enough to use the Salve, although he cast several wandless diagnostic charms on it before he did so. He wasn't an idiot, and these two had been pranking him and everyone else in sight since they were 6.

"So, want to tell us what that was?" Fred asked, looking through Severus' stores.

"Don't touch anything." Severus said, rolling his eyes. They looked at him expectantly. "A brewing accident."

"Well we know that." George pointed out, sealing the jar back up. "But we want to know the recipe."

"We're expanding our range."

"Got some seriously powerful weapons for the kids."

"You know, once it all kicks off."

The two stared at him expectantly. He frowned, confused.

"Don't tell Dumblebore." Fred said. "But we're fairly sure that Hogwarts will be the scene of the final battle."

"Old Volty does have an obsession with the school."

"And if it's at the school during term time, there will be lots of kids about."

"Probably our sister, too."

"Probably. Gets into a lot of trouble, our Ginny. Don't know where she gets it from."

"So we wanted to give them ways to protect themselves. That was where we started."

"But now we have moved on to the adults. Why can't they wear shielding charms around their necks or have pens that when twisted… explode?"

They turned back to him and raised their left eyebrows in sync.

"So you're essentially Q?" He asked, reluctantly. "Only for the whole of Wizarding Britain?"

"Q?" Fred asked, tilting his head.

"You should ask Potter to show you a James Bond film." Severus ran a hand through his hair. "You'd love them. Might even get a few ideas."

George and Fred grinned at one another. "Thanks, Snape."

"Oh, one thing. Don't tell mum. Clearly."

"Although honestly I'm not sure she'd believe you."

"She's been pissed for days. Takes the heat off of us quite nicely."

"Or it did. We'll tell her this was us."

"Cover for you."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't need you to cover for me."

"Nah, you don't. But we want to work with you."

"After the war."

"You've got some pretty wicked ideas. If we tone it down, a potion like this could make Exploding Snap look like child's play."

"Which it is."

"Right."

Seizing the heartbeat of quiet as they turned towards the stairs, Severus commanded. "Wait, Weasleys."

"People usually call us 'Twins'." Fred said, turning back to him.

"But you…" George studied him for a moment. "You may call us Frorge."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me anything more about the inventions you're preparing. If I have any good ideas for defensive tricks I'll let you know, but I should be in the dark for everything else. Keep the knowledge to a small group until it's time to distribute them. After the war" - if he's still alive - "you can fill me in."

"Oh, we will. You're the only person besides Bill we've told."

"And that was only because we wanted him to test the shielding necklace against a dragon."

"It worked."

They exchanged smug grins and scampered up the stairs out of the lab. He could just hear them apologising to Molly for the shaking as the door swung shut.

It was the first time anybody had spoken to him since Hermione had come to the lab and explained that she was staying with her parents until Saturday, that her mother was hysterical and somehow it was all Potter's fault. Now, in his dark room, with her letter on his lap and a remaining finger of whiskey, he didn't feel as wretched as he had the previous two nights. She still intended to marry him, he had Weasley allies of a sort… Maybe now when he walked between his room and the lab he wouldn't need to keep a shielding charm up.

Maybe if Molly had gone back to the Burrow. After 7 years of enduring one Potter, and 7 more of teaching his spawn, he didn't even call it paranoia.

He should have borrowed one of those shielding necklaces the twins were so proud of.

Severus was half-considering marrying her in the lab. Easy enough to move the tables out of the way so that her parents had somewhere to sit. Minerva and the rest could bloody well stand, since he had to. He was half-way through writing a reply, accusing her of trying to set another bloody world record by being the first witch to be divorced before she was married, and if she wanted to have a venue she could bloody well go herself.

But… this was the first thing Miss Grang- Hermione had ever asked him to do, and he didn't want to fail straight out of the park. What a precedent that would set.

So he burnt the letter and dropped by on Narcissa instead.

Predictably, Narcissa was in the lounge, smoking. Her head was lolling against the back of the sofa as though there were person between her thighs.

"He told me." She said, her voice raspy. The edge had been taken out of it, causing her words to spill over into one another and slip unheeded into the room. "He was so fucking gleeful." Severus sat next to her on the sofa, and her head rested on his shoulder. "Lucius is livid." Her lips whispered against his neck as she spoke and Severus shifted uncomfortably. She always got like this when she was high… boneless and intimate.

"Narcissa, I have no choice." He said softly, and she nuzzled his earlobe. "I need you to sober up, darling."

She pouted, her eyes slitting. "No. It hurts that way. This way is better..." She hiked up her skirt a little further. "Don't you think?"

He turned to the side, pushing her gently from his shoulder, and wrapped a hand around her face, angling her towards him. "I know it hurts. But I need the real Narcissa right now. I need to find a venue."

"A venue for that little godfors-" He watched her pull herself inwards, shuddering with the effort. And then she nodded. "The Dark Lord will…" She huffed air out of her nose in a sharp burst and nodded once. It was a minute before she found her tongue, casting a small charm above her head and stubbing out the cigarette. "I still have a list from when we were planning Draco and Pansy's wedding. Such a nice family, even if she's terribly thick."

She accio'd her party planning journal across the room and cracked it open over her knees. He wasn't a hundred percent sure she was sober, but if this was the best she could do for him then it was all he would ask.

She ran a manicured nail across the page and the book shuddered and re-opened at Draco's wedding.

"He was only 14." Severus said as a pulse of annoyance flashed her porcelain features.

"If the boy had done it a little more privately maybe she wouldn't be so vulgar." She replied, without looking up. "It's distasteful, the way she pursues him. And embarrassing for Previati. If I ever become a great-grandmother smother me in my sleep."

Severus squeezed her shoulder gently. "You know I will do no such thing. And neither of us are likely to live to be her age."

Narcissa's fingers reached up to intertwine with his as she read, though she didn't deign to respond.

"Alright." Narcissa said, drawing herself from the couch with a sudden burst of energy, swinging around and making playful eye contact. "I will make you look at 3 places. If and only if you reject the first one, will I show you the second."

He pinched the top of his nose. "Narcissa, please, this is important."

"Why?"

He couldn't really respond to the arched eyebrow or the gleam in her eyes. Narcissa having fun was something of a novelty. And he had come in part to cheer her up.

She pulled on white, beaded gloves and held her hand out to him expectantly. He smiled as he took it, placing it gently in the crook of his elbow. The woman's moods were more unpredictable than the weather.

"Where to?" He murmured.

"Just the London flat." She fluttered her eyes upwards to him. "I'll take over from there, darling."

 _ **AN: Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. To those of you who post as Guests or have turned off the private messaging feature, I'm sorry I can't reply personally. To those who posted reviews before Chapter 8, I read them and they are the reason I kept writing, but I was still learning how the site worked and didn't reply to very many. So sorry. And thank you all so, so much for the motivation and encouragement. Unrelated, this chapter was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoyed Frorge as much as I did!**_


	10. Chapter 10: Summer Roses

**AN: Is my writing suddenly engaging where before it was brisk? Does it have more style and rhythm now? Less confusing parts? My thanks to the wonderful beta LumosLyra, who has made this 10x more readable and worth reading than it previously was. You are a star. Any mistakes are, of course, my own, since I do keep tinkering after I get it back!  
I don't own anything or anyone you recognise, and make no money from these scribbles.**

* * *

He could practically feel the assembled guests whispering as the minutes ticked by. Potter seemed to be permanently attached to Ron Weasley's ear, who in turn was glaring mutinously at Snape while clutching Lavender's hand against his chest.

Severus shifted his weight from one foot to the other and resisted the urge to sigh. Or pinch the bridge of his nose. Or run a hand through his hair, which would certainly ruin the charm he'd attempted this morning. Narcissa had tried to have him cut it in preparation for looking his "best", but luckily Severus was more than capable of intimidating the hairdresser - an old, abysmal student.

His eyes swept over the assembled again, pausing to note that Mrs Weasley, who had evidently invited herself, was rearranging one of the flower arrangements at the back. She had been studiously avoiding coming anywhere close to the stand since he had arrived. Arthur, who had offered Severus a firm handshake, was sitting with both arms and ankles crossed and his eyes closed. Waiting, no doubt, for the muggles to make their arrival and planning what to ask them.

Miss Granger was late. Given that this was rather unusual for the witch, his stomach was cramping insistently in panic. In addition, he was sweating profusely, despite the many layers of cooling charms with which he had surrounded himself. The perspiration kept running into his eyes, not only feeding the nerves but also a slowly simmering anger which was threatening to boil over with every second. How dare she?

If she stood him up in front of this many people he was abandoning it all - as soon as the fucking war was over he was moving somewhere remote and not leaving a forwarding address, especially as he was intending on residing in a secret-kept house. He considered becoming the new dark lord so he could _obliviate_ every damn one of the attendees - even Frorge.

The sound of a bird chirping from atop of the fountain's statue caused Severus' wand hand to twitch.

In order to keep himself from making an absolute fool of himself and storming from the little archway serving as an altar, he took the deep, calming breaths required to sink beneath his shields, feeling them enclose him as though he were in a dark room. Closing his eyes, he took another long breath through his nose, identifying each smell that twined together, a technique he had been taught during his last year at Hogwarts by Lucius. It supposedly worked for Lucius' mother when she had to go out into Muggle London due to her overwhelming anxieties at being stared at as she walked down the street, considered the odd one out, or even getting _dirty_. These sentiments had resonated with the young Severus who felt the same damn way about being the center of attention.

And then Hermione was there from among the crowd, with her unique scent of summer and coconuts calling to him from among the roses. His eyes flickered open to watch the witch as she made her arrival. She was breathing hard, as though she had run here - which she bloody well ought to have done if she was going to be this late - and clutching a tall man's hand. Her father, if Severus' instincts were right, who was currently whispering into her ear as she gave him a death glare, partially hidden behind her simple bouquet of tiny forget-me-nots.

It seemed Severus barely had time to blink before she was walking down the aisle, colour still high in her cheeks from her previous exertion, the soft chords of music playing and the twenty-or-so people in between them rising to welcome the bride. She looked… well, Severus couldn't say she looked happy, per se, but satisfaction radiated from her petite form.

Severus was not know as a man with an eye for fashion, but even so, he could admire the vision before him. A fitted bodice showed off her adult curves, neatly contrasting the smooth skin with intricate lace. The cream skirt ballooned out and cut off just below the knee, somehow making her seem taller. She had no veil, but she had managed to plait her hair and, somehow, some diamonds into a braid over the crown of her head. She was stunning. Exquisite, even. Severus counted himself among the luckiest of men, even if it were all a sham.

"I am so sorry we're late." She hissed at him in an apologetic whisper as she slipped into position next to him under the archway of white roses. "My dad has a… a problem with time management."

He raised an eyebrow.

A blush stained the apples of her cheeks and chased it's way down her neck, threatening to disappear beneath the bodice of her gown. "I think you're right, he probably did it on purpose. But I don't want to fight with him today."

She slipped a smile over her features and glanced around the benches while Severus silently wondered if she would notice them in the same way as he did.

Minerva, with her hands tightly clasped, sat with her lips pressed together in distaste. Albus, today sporting his dotty old man persona with a lemon drop firmly twisted into his beard, practically twinkled. Potter rested a hand on Ron's shoulder to stop the young man from charging forward, his features more red than his hair. Lavender seemed as though she'd rather be anywhere else than here judging by the bored look on her face and the fact that she kept gazing down upon her nails every few seconds. She kept flicking her head around, throwing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder while she searched for an exit. Hermione's father sat near the others with his face set in stone, jaw clenched.

How dare all of these people sit there and judge him when he'd saved her? The anger tightened around his shoulders and coursed down the back of his neck, lighting a fire along his spine. Luckily, he spotted Luna Lovegood in the front row with charmed earrings dancing in the sun - literally, as they were both tiny brides with their dresses swishing about their knees. Nobody had seen the eccentric witch in six months, but this morning she'd just shown up at the wards and dreamily waved at him to be let in. Severus felt his anger drain, replaced by a dull thrum of irritation. They were a bunch of incompetent fools trying to save the world and keep it in the right place. Of course they blamed him. Of course he bore the brunt of their judgement - it was easier to blame him for all the darkness in the world, because the scope of the Dark Lord's crimes was too big to contemplate. At least the bat of the dungeons was a manageable darkness; one you could fantasise about solving.

Severus was a monster, but at least he was still a human one.

With a dry cough the officiant interrupted the din of conversation which had settled over the room. Francis. Or was it Frederick? No matter his name, the man made Severus' skin crawl. He may have been the dotty old man Dumbledore had based his dotty old man act upon. Francis or Frederick had offered Severus tea when he'd called around the Ministry to arrange the process and then promptly forgotten to brew it. Several times he had stood up, walked to the door, and then looked back at Severus as though wondering how the Potions Master had broken into his office.

Still, if his forgetfulness was genuine it would help. Severus couldn't really go around obliviating Ministry Employees, especially with all the lifts having been newly charmed to scan for the signs a witch or wizard had been, in fact, obliviated.

Francis asked them both if they were ready, and with a nod of his head, Severus took Hermione's wand hand in his own.

With the rustle of their leaves, the trees almost seemed to be whispering as a light breeze circled around them. Severus wondered if it was a blessing or a curse.

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry," Francis intoned solemnly, "I bind you together." A long white ribbon began to issue from the officiant's wand, wrapping their wrists together as he continued to speak. "With power and without, in sickness and in health, in happiness and sorrow, do you swear to protect, hold and cherish one another until death?"

With a nod of her head, Hermione's voice carried an undercurrent of something Severus couldn't quite identify as she spoke, "Yes."

"Yes." Severus agreed.

The ribbon tightened around their wrists as the officiant cut it with a flick of his wand. Hermione's gaze snapped to his, eyes wide while Severus inclined his head, knowing exactly how she felt. He could understand why Hermione might feel a bit squeamish, with the entire wizarding world feeling big and new all of the freaking time, especially living along the divide of muggles and wizards as a muggleborn. Hermione had placed her trust in the world she had entered at age eleven and had been bitten, both by teachers and books, one too many times.

"You are now witch and wizard, bound together for eternity." He rose his wand again to complete the next part of a standard witching ceremony. Severus jerked his head "no". Not yet.

And then it was over, just as quickly as it had begun. Hermione slipped her hand out of his when the ribbon fell to the floor, scooping it up and folding it neatly. Her mother was by her side before he could blink. "That was a bit short, wasn't it dear? No hymns?" Her father, standing stiffly on his bride's other side, bristled at Severus.

Severus sighed and turned towards the table full of champagne.

He was just picking up a flute of the bubbly liquid when he overheard his name. He focused on drifting out of the awareness of others as he stalked closer to them, his mind becoming as smooth as a river stone, worn down by eons of flowing water.

"It's just not right," Ron complained.. "Hermione may not be the love of my life, but she's one of my closest friends. What can Dumbledore think, forcing her to marry Snape, of all people?"

"I know," Molly said in an attempt to placate her youngest son as she patted him on the shoulder. "Tying such a sweet little thing to a Death Eater, well, that just begs the question."

Severus shuddered. Given that the woman had been screaming bloody murder at said sweet little thing only days earlier, he could admire how easily she hid behind what appeared to be a myriad of carefully crafted masks. He knew Dumbledore would never mistrust the ginger-haired witch, despite Severus' misgivings.

"Cheer up," Harry said, glumly. "It's done now. She's married to the bastard. At least she didn't have to wait until the automatic sorting. Who knows what sort of crone I'll end up with?"

"Harry what are you talking about?" Ron said, running his hand through his hair. "Dumbledore'll figure it out."

Why did everyone keep repeating those words as if by their mere repetition they would be counted as fact? Above all, Severus _knew_ that the Headmaster was struggling, as did the majority of the Order members. Why else would they be asked to submit to marrying on Dumbledore's schedule.

"All I'm saying, Ron, that it's better the devil you know, you know?" Harry urged, a miserable expression still settled across his features. Severus almost pitied him.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure that really applies here, mate. Snape's a right ugly bastard. Any random wizard would be better for her, don't you think?"

His magic bristled across his skin, drawn outward from his core by his anger. Severus realised with a start that his hands were shaking. He was torturing himself, listening to this nonsense. Miss Granger, no, _Mrs. Snape,_ had made her choice.

The thought helped relieve the tension a little, although as his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, he felt a sharp pain behind his right eye.

Merlin, he needed to get out of here. He whirled and stalked through the little garden, past the wall of water just beyond the maze, toying with the stem of the champagne flute.

"Severus." Minerva uttered, placing a light, wrinkled hand on his arm just as he charged past the entrance to the little maze. Sometimes he thought she must be part bird, she seemed to weigh so little. "I just wanted to say congratulations."

He snorted.

"No, really. I think the two of you are unconventional, it's true, but you are both stubborn enough to make it work, if that's what you choose to do."

Severus stared down his pronounced nose at her, oddly touched by her words but refusing to let her see it. She sighed and clasped him on the upper arm with her long, thin fingers. "I believe I saw a bride heading that way." She said, tilting her head back towards the entrance to the small maze.

"Thank you, Minerva." He said, clutching her hand tightly with his own. "Have you spoken with her at all?"

"I have." She patted him where she had gripped his bicep with the other papery hand and smiled. "Have you?"

Truthfully, other than the whispered conversation before their binding was complete, he had not spoken to his wife since he'd proposed.

It had been a short engagement, to be sure, but even so. He stalked into the maze, Minerva's words boystering his steps. The whole world wasn't against them after all.

As if prompted by that thought, the next corner revealed Fred and George Weasley snickering to one another over a frog. "Watcha Professor!" shouted George.

Severus nodded a greeting.

"Thanks for inviting us." Said Fred.

"Great spread." Agreed George.

"It wasn't all for you." Severus said, his lips twitching. Their faces blossomed into grins in an almost creepy synchronicity. He went to walk past them, but George called him back.

"We've got something for you, mate." He said, handing Severus two parcels in white plain paper. He weighed it suspiciously.

"We haven't done anything stupid." Fred said. "We actually do want to work with you."

"Well, we were trying to sneak in a little surprise for the ceremony. But Mum found out and confiscated it."

"That was more for them than for you though."

"This one is great."

Severus wondered how fast his neck would grow tired as his gaze darted between the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match. He held up his hand.

"Enough. Just explain these."

"Well," George crossed his arms. "The big, square one is for you. You've got to promise not to use it outside the Potions classroom, though."

"And the small lumpy one is for Hermione."

"No tricks, we swear."

"What is my gift?" Severus asked, his voice colouring with annoyance. As charming as the twins were, they were also standing between himself and a long overdue conversation with his new wife.

"It's sort of like a foe glass." Explained Fred. "Only instead of foes, it shows you our beautiful little tricks."

"Well it wouldn't be much good if people kept trying to blow themselves up in your classroom, would it?"

"Wouldn't look good."

He frowned. "How are you so sure it will work?"

"We use it in the store, to spot thieves."

"Did you know people just go into stores and put what they want into their pockets, and don't even pay for them?" George looked scandalised.

"You realise that I can use this against your new product line during a fight?" He asked. How did children never think these things through? It was a war, people were dying…

"Well, not exactly. Different product range, so we sign it with a different signature."

"Clever, eh?"

The black haired wizard nodded his thanks to them and shrunk the packages, before stuffing them into his trouser pocket. "And Hermione's gift?" He prompted.

"Don't you trust us?" Fred pouted. "She'll love it, honest."

Severus shrugged, knowing that he was going to cast every diagnostic spell he knew at the little lumpy package before he even thought about turning it over to Hermione, and span on his heel. Without the cloak, he couldn't quite manage a billow.

A few turns later, and Severus found Hermione sitting behind a rose bush on a wooden bench, her nose buried in a book.

"Didn't fancy revelling in the love of friends and family?" He asked, plucking up his suit trousers at the knee and joining her on the bench.

"Severus." She glanced up at him, smiling despite his acerbic tone. She looked lovely, though the word radiant was frustratingly the descriptor that came to mind. This close, the scent of lavender and sunflower also mixed with her own subtle sweetness. Sleekeazy's, no doubt, which helped explain how her hair was neatly braided into a crown and not the frizzy mess it usually was. Her cheeks were still rosy with a slight blush, as though embarrassed to have been caught sneaking away to read. The overall effect was thoroughly disarming.

She covered her eyes with her forearm. "You made an excellent choice. This place is magical, but… do you think we can leave soon?"

"I suppose I could arrange it." He studied her closely for a second. "It is my understanding that brides are supposed to socialize, but if my lady wife must away." He shrugged, hoping that he'd masked his own unease well enough with the sarcasm.

She raised an eyebrow in parody of his usual gesture, and didn't deign to reply. She slipped a bookmark in between the pages - it was the novel he'd given her, he noted with a thrum of pleasure - and stood up.

"If you insist, I suppose I can return to them. For half an hour - no more."

He scrubbed at his eyes. "No, that's not what I meant to say." Watching Hermione as she stood before him expectantly, Severus attempted to clarify. "Come, let us go do a final round before apparating away."

She smiled again, her face lighting up and her eyes twinkling with joy. With a twirl of her hand and a muttered word that was definitely not Latin - _sekuru_ \- the book seemed to vanish.

"Where did it..?"

She tapped her wrist, where a charm bracelet rested along the curve of her arm. The chain was silver and a solitary, miniature blue book hung from it. "That is…" He brought her arm up to his gaze, studying the little metal charm. "A spell of your own making, I take it?"

She nodded, blushing again. "I have found it necessary on several occasions to secrete books so that certain persons do not try and take them away from me. I, ah…" She twisted her wrist so he could no longer see it. "I might be slightly addicted."

He grinned then, unmindful of the twenty minutes he'd spent contorting his face earlier in the day in front of a mirror, trying to make it appear less frightful. His smile reflected his pure and unadulterated delight at her accomplishment. "The charm and transfiguration work are very impressive."

"Thank you." She averted her gaze.

"Have you considered writing a piece on it? I'm sure Flitwick would love to try it out."

"Ah… no, not on this particular spell. But I have been working on-"

"Hermione!" A voice called, and a moment later the youngest Weasley stood before them. "I thought I'd come say goodbye. Harry and I know you hate these things so…" She hesitated, her eyes glancing to Severus' before continuing. "Thank you for inviting us. And… ah… good luck, both of you."

"Thank you, Ginny." Hermione said sincerely as she embraced her friend. "Nothing will… nothing will change between us, right?"

Ginny gulped. "No," she said, her gaze darting to Severus and back again to Hermione, her expression unreadable. "No, of course not. I really have got to go now."

Giving Hermione another quick squeeze, the youngest Weasley scurried off, blending back into the herd of redheads congregating around the canapé table. Severus took the moment to study the guests, who all seemed to be having a passable time now that the serving of food, wine and spirits had commenced. No sign of Frederick or Francis or whatever the ministry official had been called. Severus rolled his eyes and turned back to Hermione, only to find her standing in the hedge.

"Herm-"

She raised a finger to her lips, her face blotchy and red, though not from the pretty blushes he had become accustomed to rather quickly. She was blinking far more frequently than she had previously, he noticed, and she was clutching her wrists with white hands.

He moved to go to her side, but she held up her hand in command. And then he heard it. "Well, I think she's finally met her match." Lavender said in a shrill voice that brought to mind nails on a chalkboard. "Perhaps it will work out, Ronnikins. They're both as stubborn and frigid as each other. They'd rather hump books than each other, I'd warrant."

"Oh, do stop sulking," Lavender chided, clearly addressing Hermione's former paramour "You turned her down, remember?"

Hermione's frizz of brown hair was gaining a subtle, sparking blue tint as he watched, and he realised that it was her anger made manifest. Somehow, seeing her reaction kept his own anger in check, although when his fingers twitched he realised that he was clutching his wand, ready to blast the damn bush into pieces, though he didn't remember drawing it in the first place

"Hermione?" Potter called out. "Are you around?"

At once the blue seemed to dissipate from her hair as her shoulders slumped forward. She looked at Severus with mute appeal.

Potter's burst into their clearing with all of the grace of a newborn colt. "Ah there you are, Ginny said you were back here."

"I don't think she wants to talk to you, Potter." Severus intoned gleefully, knowing it was about time his wife put the boy in his place.

"Hermione." Potter was reaching for his wife's arm, but Severus batted it away with ease and glared at the boy through narrowed eyes.

"You can't control who she talks to." He protested indignantly.

Hermione chose that moment to speak, her eyes focused on the messy-haired wizard. "Harry. It has nothing to do with Severus controlling me, which he is not by the way. He's telling the truth. I don't want to talk to you."

"Why the hell not?" Harry asked, the volume of his voice raised a few decibels. "You say it's nothing to do with him, but you've barely spoken to me since he proposed. What the hell did he say to turn you away from us?"

"Turn away?" Severus winced at the volume and pitch of her tone - he would be surprised if any attendees didn't hear the altercation at this point. "Harry, you went behind my back and told my parents that I was getting married!"

"They deserved to know." He pointed out, his jaw sticking out obstinately.

Severus took a careful step to the side and adjusted his grip on his wand.

"They did." She agreed. "And I deserved to be the one to tell them. We'd arranged it an hour before you went off on your stupid floo mission, Harry. You robbed me of the chance to tell them myself, made it seem like this big secret thing, like I was ashamed of it. Do you know how hard it has been to…" Her face was flushed and blotchy while her hair sparked once more with the magical manifestation of her fury. She stopped abruptly mid-rant, distracted by the fact that the hedge had somehow grown a bit taller and was topped with brunette and ginger patches.

"Oh, like you told them about being cut up in the Ministry? How Dolohov managed to get close enough to cut you straight through?"

Hermione made a strangled noise of rage as she clenched her fists tightly at her sides.

"I'm…" Potter had the grace to look a bit ashamed of himself as he carded his hand through his hair, making it stick up at all angles from his forehead to the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, Mione. That wasn't fair. But you almost died."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, her face pale and her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Perhaps we ought to retire somewhere private." Severus cut her off smoothly before she could say something she would regret. He tucked her hand into the fold of his elbow and didn't even feel the need to bait Potter in farewell. They left Harry standing there, his mouth gaping like a fish and stuttering apologies which fell on deaf ears.

Hermione squeezed his arm. "Let me just do the rounds quickly and grab my folks."

He made to release her, but she simply squeezed her hand tighter around his elbow.

With a shudder, goosebumps chased down her arms despite the weather as Severus leaned down to murmur against the curve of her ear "Miss Granger." Noticing her discomfort, he angled away, keeping his voice low. It was a good reminder that he was losing himself in fantasies of married life, andin pride at the way she'd managed not to lash out at Potter with her wand, though she eviscerated the poor boy with her words. This was a match of convenience for her, and he was determined to be damned well inconvenienced by it.

It was then that he spotted Francis. "There is something I must do before we leave as well."

"Can't we do them both together?" She countered.

A sigh erupted from Severus and he fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Surely you are not so afraid of the people who have raised you for the first twelve years that you require my company." He stopped walking and caught her eye, tugging her around to face him. He cast a non-verbal _muffliato_ with a nonchalant wave of his wand. "You do realise you have been standing in direct opposition to the Dark Lord for most of your childhood? They cannot possibly be more intimidating."

Her teeth caught her lower lip between them and she toyed with it, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "You may think so," she conceded. "But they have been so cold this last week. I don't know, they seem to think I ought to give up magic rather than give in to the Ministry's demands. I… I don't want them to be ashamed of me, Severus, but I can't _tell_ them anything."

It seemed the witch was having a much easier time using his name than he was hers. His wife drew a deep breath, which made her dress shift over her bosom delightfully in ways that Severus was definitely not noticing, and puffed it out between pursed lips. "Harry was right, I haven't told them what happened at the Ministry, just that Harry lost Sirius." She darted her gaze around guiltily. "In first year, after the incident with Fluffy…"

Severus' lip curled. "Are you telling me that you haven't told your parents anything about the Petrification incident, or being a human-sized cat, or being threatened and almost killed by a werewolf?"

She tugged roughly at her lip with her teeth again and shook her head. "They were going to pull me out of school!" she protested. "Dumbledore lied to them about what really happened when he took me home after second year. He didn't want them to know about the Polyjuice incident because he thought they would follow through with their threats, and the warning was clear enough then."

No wonder the Grangers were so confused by their daughter's abrupt marriage to an older, former teacher. For them, it wasn't a war. In their minds, he wasn't protecting her with his proposal, he was only threatening her future happiness for decades, especially given the extended lifespan of wizards compared to that of muggles.

Suddenly, Potter's insistence on telling Hermione's parents made sense to Severus in a way it had previously had not. Not that it was forgivable, mind.

"Would you have told them we were getting married?" He asked softly, watching her carefully as she blinked up at him His heart squeezed painfully as he waited for her response.

"Yes, of course, but I wouldn't have explained about the stupid Marriage Law. Now they think they can persuade me out of it, whereas if I'd admitted to being head-over-heels about you they would have been supportive...ish." She paused and frowned up at him. "I don't want to play this game. I can't go back and tell them before Harry did, so asking that question is unhelpful."

He knew it was. He knew it was playing a game, trying to get her to admit that she at least didn't find him wholly repulsive. He even felt ashamed of playing the game, of stringing her along under false pretences, the same way he'd done with Lily many times, all those years ago.

But the tight band that seemed to have taken up permanent residence around his chest eased a little.

"Come on." She urged, recovering herself and squaring her shoulders. "Let's run your errand first, and then we can take my folks home by way of escape."

"They could just take public transport." He pointed out, cancelling the _muffliato_ and turning his gaze back towards the Ministry official, who was currently loading a paper plate with cold cuts and various cheeses. "We're still technically in London."

"Severus!" She playfully raised her hand to bop him on the shoulder, and though he knew it was puckish and teasing, he flinched away by instinct. Luckily he disguised it smoothly by turning her to avoid a collision with a flower arrangement. This was going to be a problem. She hadn't noticed. At least he hoped she hadn't.

"You know they'll need to take a train in, to catch the DLR, to then get onto the tube proper. You can't pretend you know nothing about London or about Muggle transportation. It'll take them over 4 hours!"

He did not know the Underground as she did, that was for certain. Whenever he needed to get anywhere via Muggle means he used a charmed Underground map he'd made when he was fifteen. It took input and output stations and told you exactly which trains to take, removing from him the bother of needing to learn any of it. It even updated as new stations were added. Frorge would be proud.

"I certainly don't know what a DLR is." Severus said, sighing.

"It's the overground line. The one that looks like something out of a science fiction movie?" She tapped her foot against the ground in frustration when it was clear he had no idea what she was talking about. "Just think of it as another Underground line, then."

They approached the buffet table now, which was still, despite Ginny's warning, swamped by Weasleys. Severus firmly grabbed Francis' shoulder and pulled him gently away from the swarm - and the potato salad.

"I don't believe you have quite earned that yet."

The old man seemed nonplussed. "Ah, Severus. Congratulations to both of you."

He nodded at Hermione, who tilted her head like a confused bird as her eyes darted between them both.

"Discreetly." Severus cautioned again.

The man swallowed and put his plate down on a nearby vase, wiping his hands down the front of his cloak with a smear of greasy fingers. _Delightful_. Then, he rummaged through his pockets, turning each one inside out and putting it back the right way again Hermione glanced at Severus out of her peripheral vision in a glance that spoke of amusement and shared confidences.

Severus allowed his lips a slight twitch, but nothing more. He couldn't risk alienating the man, not when he needed him to keep this gossip to himself.

Finally, the man found his blessed wand. Frederick sighed, straightened up and grinned at the newly married couple. " _Fidelius,"_ he incanted, traversing his wand in an intricate spiral that started at Severus' right hand and worked its way up to his heart. Then he flicked it towards Hermione, like he was removing a drop of water from the tip, and Severus felt the spell settle into his shoulders like a cloak.

"Severus?" Hermione asked, glancing once more between the two of them.

Severus smiled and patted her arm. "There, dear. It's all arranged, as you asked for."

She smiled beatifically at Francis as he returned to the potatoes, but Severus could feel her vibrating at his side with an abundance of unasked questions. He was impressed she'd played along.

"Look," Severus grasped her shoulders and turned her towards one of the tables in an effort to distract her. "Your father is there."

Hermione's father wasn't all that hard to spot, as he was taller than the other guests by six inches or so, even taller than Severus himself. His face was contorting into a scowl as he listened to Molly nattering on about something or other.

"Oh dear." Hermione sighed, rushing towards the pair. "Who knows what she's saying to him."

Severus followed her, his longer stride allowing him to keep up with her without chasing. Or running. Even as a married man he deserved _some_ dignity.

"How dare you?" Her father exclaimed rather heatedly, causing Severus to wince. If the question was directed towards himself, then his answer was short and honest - he had no idea how he had dared to ask for such a beautiful woman to share her life with his, but she had been in a bit of a bind at the time. Oh, and one of the most evil men of the last century had demanded it of him.

"Mr. Granger!" Molly's scandalised voice rose an octave or two. "I am merely telling you these things as a friend." She lay a hand on the man's arm as though to calm him, but he quickly batted it away.

"Woman, no friend of mine would make such disgusting insinuations about my daughter. I am quite done with this conversation. My daughter worked hard for her grades in every subject, and if she beat your son every year, I can only say -" he punctuated each word with a definitive wag of his finger, " _bully for her._ "

Molly splutered. "But-"

"Whatever this is between the two of them, I'm certain it would have started long after she had finished his courses. The Grangers are an honest family, a hard-working family."

"Papa." Hermione placated in a soothing voice, coming to stand beside her father who was practically seething at the Weasley matriarch.

Molly harrumphed, and span on her heel with three glasses filled with prosecco charmed to follow her From the unsteadiness of her gait, Severus was willing to bet that she had already consumed four times that number.

"Papa, thank you." Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion as she slid into his arms.

"Yes, well." With an awkward pat on the tearful girl's shoulder, he pulled her back to look into her face, in a similar motion that Severus had himself employed earlier. Mr. Granger tapped her on the chin. "Nobody talks about my girl like that. I know the truth, I've watched you study enough to know you'd never jeopardize your future."

Hermione sniffled and practically threw her arms around the man in a warm embrace, before taking a step back.

"That's not to say," he continued, "that I think you're doing the right thing, marrying one another." Severus' insides squirmed at being dragged into the family debate. "Marriage is a commitment, it's hard work. It's not something you do because you're told to, not anymore."

Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt, but her father kept talking.

"But as long as you make one another happy, that's the best outcome anyone can hope for. It's a shame you've opened us up to speculation from the likes of her - " he said, pointing towards the retreating form of Molly Weasley, "especially after the stories we told you, but… well, what's done is done."

Severus made a mental note to ask Hermione just what stories her father had told her as they embraced again. Unexpectedly, the man reached out to pat him on the back.

He drew his wand before the thought had a chance to cross his mind, merely a reaction from years of practicing constant vigilance, although he managed to retain enough icy control to not cast anything. The move was nothing more than a friendly gesture, but he had suffered enough of this type of hug in his youth. Mr. Granger was hardly going to start beating him up here, after the wedding - even if he had wanted to.

"Papa…" Hermione said, entwining her fingers around her father's. "I would like to leave now. Would you like us to escort you via the Floo?"

"Yes please, honey." Mr. Granger squeezed her hand briefly and turned with Severus' wife towards the throng of people, leaving Severus to tail the pair. It left him feeling curiously left out. "Let's go grab your mother."


	11. Chapter 11: Northwards

**AN: Thanks again to the star of betas LumosLyra, whose work makes these scribbles readable. Any mistakes are, of course, my own, since I do keep tinkering after I get it back!**

 **Thank you for all the reviews. I agree that Molly is awful. She's based on a woman in my life whose only desire is to be in the middle of whatever gossip or tragedy is unfolding, and who will cause drama if none is readily available. Although my Molly would have rung Hermione's parents herself and without Potter's do-gooding side to explain it!**

 **Not mine, no money.**

* * *

The train was vibrating as it charged northwards and Severus could feel his creaking joints complaining already. They'd only been onboard for an hour, his lady wife and he, and already he was regretting their decision - his decision, really - to bow to her fears and take ground transportation.

She'd turned as white as a sheet when he'd suggested they fly there.

He'd thought they could spend the train ride getting to know one another and had booked them a little compartment of their very own. He even went so far as to overlay the existing network of privacy charms with a _Muffliato_ as well, only to have her instantly pull out a large book and begin flicking through the pages.

Tapping his fingers on his knee and then on the table, he stared with discontent out of the window, discreetly studying his wife's reflection in the dirty glass. He could feel his worry over the Malfoy boy eating at him, and if she didn't start providing a distraction soon he was going to be forced back to London. Even if there was nothing he could add there, at least he'd be closer if they did find him...

Finally, he sighed, leaned back onto the vibrating and uncomfortable chair and blatantly stared at her. As if she could feel the weight of his eyes upon her, she looked up from the pages of her book and smiled widely.

Insolence.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She asked lightly, placing a torn slip of notepaper between the pages of the tome and closing it with a thump. Severus refused to even glance at the now closed book, churlishly resisting his own curiosity to know what she was reading.

"No." Unable to curtain his reaction, he turned his cantankerous gaze away from her, fully aware of the fact that he was sulking and that he was doing it to get a rise out of her. He crossed his arms over his chest. "But it is at least passably better than our wedding."

She laughed, a delightful, little tinkling sound, and placed her hands together primly on top of her book. She had her full attention fixed on him, her eyes serious and focused.

"Why didn't you invite any friends?" She asked, gazing at him intently as though she were studying him in return.

His lips twitched. "I did actually. I invited the Dark Lord."

He tilted his head down and glanced up from between the curtains of his hair to see her mouth fall open, a startled splutter escaping it. "Did you really?" She whispered in disbelief.

"Yes," he said, letting silence fall over the carriage. If everyone else was going to judge him, she may as well join their fold. It would teach her not to trust him, making it easier for her when his crimes finally came to light.

"Go on." She urged, her smile impish. "Explain it to me."

With a sign, he raised his wand and cast a stronger Muffliato, making the air around them crackle softly. Hermione winced and massaged an ear - he'd forgotten that side effect.

"Sorry." He said sheepishly.

She merely smiled and dismissed the apology with a casual wave of her hand. "It's alri-" she started, before exclaiming. "Oh, it's like talking underwater! My voice sounds so different!" She tapped the table lightly with a fist and listened for the expected thud.

"That's how you know it's working."

"This is so strange." She mused, moving her head in a manner which he assumed would force her ears to equalize the pressure. Her head was strangely tilted when she flashed him a charming grin.

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat. "If the Dark Lord had been planning to use our wedding as the perfect means of attacking nearly all members of the Order simultaneously, then I would prefer to know in advance. He'd have found out when and where it was to be held from the Ministry records anyway."

Severus watched intently as Hermione twisted a stray curl around her finger in contemplation. As she released it, it sprung back up into a tight, perfect curl.

"Nearly all members? Barely anyone was there. Most of our guests were Weasleys, and while I did invite Remus and Tonks, they..." She trailed off, and Severus could almost see the wheels turning in her head, weaving various facts together.

She gasped, her eyes wide. "Oh."

"Yes, exactly. We couldn't have any more Order members take the risk, but we also couldn't make it seem as though the Order thought an attack was coming." He tried to stretch his long legs out to relieve the tension in his knees, but there was little space underneath the table and he narrowly missed kicking her. She drew her legs up underneath her body and tapped at her lips as she thought, a small furrow appearing between her eyes.

"But if Voldemort had attacked us, we'd have been outnumbered. He would have come expecting the entire Order there."

Severus shrugged. "The Dark Lord assured me he had little interest in jeopardizing my position within the Order, especially not when our ceremony was one where Potter would be protected by half of Wizarding Britain." The crease across her forehead remained. Severus ran his fingers over his chin, searching for the right words to use to make her understand that her safety had been paramount for him. "Nevertheless, Albus was there, despite my personal wishes, and each magical guest had a portkey pinned to them, courtesy of Shacklebolt. Everyone was under strict instructions to grab you or your parents at the first sight of trouble and whisk you away to a safe location."

As he spoke, Hermione's expression grew thunderous. When it was clear he had finished his explanation, her arms crossed. Feeling like an errant schoolboy, Severus shifted nervously in his seat. His usual defence to being accused like this was to show the other person up as a fool, but he had spent a pleasant summer brewing with the chit, and was reluctant to resort to petty jabs and derision.

But if he couldn't goad her into an argument and show that she was being irrational, that meant it was highly likely he'd have to face the fact he'd done something wrong.

Judging by her facial expression he had done something very wrong.

"Everybody else knew? Why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?"

Oh yes. He had completely fucked up.

"Dumbledore didn't-"

"I'm not asking Dumbledore." Her jaw was jutting out defiantly as she glared at him, and he almost felt as though he would catch fire from the anger contained there.

Suddenly, Severus was feeling quite nervous. This hadn't been the reaction he was expecting, although it was entirely lost on him as to what he thought she might say or do. "We didn't want you distracted on your big day," he attempted, adding under his breath. "And it was thought, by some, that your acting skills might not be up to scratch."

"Fuck you." She spat, roughly throwing open her book and pointedly starting to take notes again.

Severus snarled at the blue expanse of water that twinkled merrily at the pair of them as the train skirted a lake. Unsurprisingly, he had already messed up the marriage. He couldn't even decide who was wrong; after all, he had only been trying to protect her, but…

"I ah…" He cleared his throat, determined to be the bigger man. "I apologise."

Her nostrils flared, but she didn't turn back to him, impatiently pushing a stray brown ringlet behind her ear.

"In my defense, I didn't see you until you sprinted up the aisle. There was no way I could have told you anything."

"You wouldn't have anyway." She accused hotly, her quill scratching across the parchment. She wrote so quickly that Severus was amazed the end result was legible, her hand traversed the paper without a single glance as her eyes remained glued to the text.

"Perhaps…" He drawled. He was a spy, for goodness' sake! He couldn't possibly lose his nerve because this twig of a girl was _cross_ with him. Despite his internal pep talk, Severus attempted to defend himself, his voice closer to a whine than he would ever have liked to admit. "But I've told you now."

She looked up at him then. The way her eyes bore into his, she seemed to be weighing his worth. His heart was heavier than a feather - he'd probably sink the whole scale. After what felt like an age, she nodded and pushed the book away from her. "So where were the other Order members?"

"I have no idea." He ran his fingers through his lank hair. "I don't usually get told anything, to be truthful. It's better that way."

"Did you invite any other Death Eaters?" He was surprised her fingers didn't continue to take notes with the way her eyes bored into him. He could imagine just what she might write on the parchment. _Severus Snape, Potions Master. Husband. Death Eater. Greasy hair, long fingers, skilled with Dark Magic. Pros: already married._ Cons: ...

"No." He made an impatient flick with his fingers as though he were chasing away an errant drop of water. "I didn't think it prudent to issue an invitation when I didn't want them there, though the few I like might have come, had I done so."

"I invited plenty of people I didn't really want there." She pointed out, her head tilted. Molly Weasley being the chief one, he imagined, since she'd invited the rest of the brood. Lavender, too, would hardly have warranted an invitation if she hadn't been bound to Ronald Weasley like a permanent sticking charm. He wondered who else she would have excluded. Perhaps everyone - perhaps she would have rather gone to the Ministry with a witness and completed the ceremony there.

"Yes." He drawled, his tone conveying exactly what he thought of those miscreants she had invited.

Silence seemed to seep into the carriage, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Hermione's breath fogged up the window as she rested her head against the wall, gazing out at the passing countryside.

Severus watched her through his eye lashes in small, darting glances. She had one of her curls in her mouth, and was… chewing on it? That was surprising: he had never seen her chew on her own hair before. He would certainly have noticed - that was a treacherous and idiotic habit if you were brewing. Who knew what sort of dangerous reagents had splashed onto you when you weren't looking?

She was wearing white again today, a linen shirt with full sleeves which seemed to emphasize her delicate wrists with every turn of the page. She was also wearing _yoga pants_ and had taken great care to ensure he knew their name when he had suggested she change out of her pyjamas. Hermione had made the claim that they were more comfortable than jeans, though all Severus knew was that they displayed the lovely rounded shape of his wife's pert behind clearly when she had trapised down the length of the carriage. It had been all he could do to avert his gaze and discreetly reshuffle his clothing to a more comfortable position.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me." He said, forcing his mind away from the reminder of his wife's sensuous behind. "I know you would much rather stay at Grimmauld Place, but… well..." he trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to put what he was trying to say into words without sounding thoroughly pathetic.

Severus, apparating away from the home of Hermione's parents to give them a moment's privacy with their daughter, had opened the front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place to see a cluster of Order members, Molly in the middle, whispering intently. While this wasn't terribly unusual - they were, after all, a resistance and most of what they did had to be kept quiet - Order business was usually conducted in an upstairs room with layer upon layer of privacy charms. From the way silence had rippled through the group upon his arrival, it was quite clear exactly who and what they were talking about.

Moody, who had immediately turned on his heel and limped out of the house, growled at Severus in a raspy, abused voice as he approached. "I've never trusted you, boy. Be mindful now. I'll be watching."

Staring down the mad Auror made Severus' skin itch. In defiance, Severus hadn't moved, forcing Alastor to work to pass him. It wasn't lost on him, however, that Moody had done everything in his power to circumvent the austere Potions Master, yanking his robes tightly to himself as he did so. Perhaps he thought a mutual rustle of robes would spread the darkness.

Following that confrontation, Severus needed to be alone; he needed it like water on a blistering summer day. The Malfoys would know where he was if there were any developments in that area, and he'd still be brewing, so even Albus had no hold over him.

"Don't worry, it's nice to have a honeymoon." Hermione stretched her hands upwards, yawned, and then violently twisted to the left. Her back made a sickening, cracking noise. Then, she tilted her head to the side, pressing her ear to her shoulder, and another cracking noise emitted from what Severus assumed were the bones in her neck.

His eyes widened in shock, but his wife kept speaking as though she were not torturing herself. "I didn't want to be in a house with Ron and Harry anyway, not after the way they behaved at the wedding. Honestly, Severus, you'd think we were running off with Hedwig or telling Ron the Cannons had disbanded from the way they reacted. It's utterly ridiculous how emotional and… and hormonal they are."

With a huff, Hermione pushed her hair out of her face again. "I honestly thought this would get better as they grew older, but they are still the impulsive 11-year-olds who refused to be my friend. Who knows what would have happened if Quirrell hadn't needed a Troll? I'm still fairly certain that Harry would buy Ron an entire cart-load of candy just to watch him eat it. That's what happened on the train the first time I met them, you know? They were buried under sweet wrappers."

"They are trying to protect you." Severus drawled, in low persuasive tones. "But they are powerless. Every move they make is controlled by the adults around them, so their protection of you comes in bizarre forms."

The look in Hermione's eyes was oddly speculative. "Are you… defending them?" She asked.

"No." Severus gave in to his mounting curiosity and swung her book towards him, giving him an excuse to break eye contact. "But they are your friends and for a reason I have yet to work out, you consistently return to them. I assume they provide some form of relief in your life when they aren't being… possessive, and no doubt once they apologise you will return to being bosom buddies." His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a moment, and she nodded reluctantly.

"Ah, more charm work." _Rhymes and Unreason: A Primer into Charming Books_ lay before him, it's frayed blue cover glowing lightly as though caught in the setting sun's rays.

"Oh! That was what I was trying to tell you at the wedding." Her hazel eyes suddenly brightened while her lips curled into a smile. "In addition to this bracelet, I've been attempting to create a new charmed book."

"I think the world has more than enough books that need to be chained up in between lessons," Severus deadpanned.

The heavy air which had pervaded their compartment seemed to dissipate with her bell-like laughter. "You'll like this one, I'm sure. It's like a library in a book." She rummaged in her rucksack and retrieved a dark grey book with no title or markings on the cover. She opened it reverently and pushed it towards him. The writing was small and cramped but with a press of her wand against the top of the page, the script grew larger and much easier to read.

"This is your first year Potions book." He stated with a raised eyebrow. "While the solid foundation learnt from this will lead you to being able to consume large parts of a library, I fail to see-"

His voice was cut off as she tapped her wand in a particular pattern across the spine. The words on the page danced, and settled to form a new page before his eyes. This time it showed her second year Defence against the Dark Arts book, complete with an illustration of an idiotically grinning Lockhart illuminating a cave with an accompanying passage.

"I thought you would have burned all his books." He said dryly, enclosing his delicate fingers around the book and pulling it towards him. It was heavy enough to somehow contain the two textbooks, although no more. She pushed her wand into the spine, and another passage appeared. It was a cooking recipe for bangers and mash.

"How?" He asked, raising his eyes from the page with great difficulty to stare into the chocolate eyes of the witch opposite him.

"I got the idea from several sources." She pulled a small electronic device from her bag and placed it before him too. "Have you heard of a Kindle?"

Severus shook his head mutely, but picked it up too. It was much lighter than Hermione's book had been, a sleek metallic thing that felt as though he could easily snap it in half.

"Muggles use them to store books." She explained "Just the words, obviously. Not the entire book…" She trailed off at the look on his face and swallowed. "Right, well. They find them much easier to carry around, lighter, etc. It's really quite marvellous. My mum bought me this one last Christmas, since she knows how much I love to read. She's constantly worrying about my back, because I'm always carrying a selection, you know. Dad says I'm a walking library."

Severus idly wondered if she was always this verbose, but then he was reminded of the essays she had handed in to him and while they hadn't always been a joy to read, they were excessively thorough. Honestly, who accurately cites sources at 14, especially with no official training?

"So." She took a moment to recenter and focus. "Right. Well, obviously I loved it, but I missed so many other things about holding a physical book in my hands - turning the pages, the smell of a new book…" She took a deep breath and smiled. "And although the kindle worked at Hogwarts, it only worked for the first month or so before the battery finally gave up the ghost, and of course I couldn't charge it. The thing that really made me start pursuing this idea, though, was that the device could only store magical books if I first scanned them into a PDF, and I rather thought the Ministry might send me to Azkaban or break my wand if I did that."

A deep valley of confusion appeared upon his brow and he held up a hand to stop her. "PDFs?" He asked.

"Like photographic documents. They keep the form of a page fixed, but can be opened-"

It was clear the witch had pressed her lips together firmly to prevent a further lecture on the history of PDFs and graciously waited until he nodded before continuing.

"So, that was the motivation for the work." She flashed him a quick grin and Severus had to admit he was rather enjoying this exchange. Indeed, knowing the motivations behind her… invention, would allow him the ability to think far more clearly when engaged in further discussions on the topic. She truly was an intellectual wonder.

"Go on," He said, clearing his throat watching her eyes brighten again as she continued to explain.

"Right, so. I used the charm work Riddle used on the diary - the one we discovered in second year - as my inspiration." He scowled but didn't interrupt, though the idea of this beautiful woman studying Riddle's work and finding inspiration in his madness was appalling. He finally understood what Lily had been trying to tell him all those years ago. When she'd condemned him for using the Dark Arts he'd thought her foolish. Who would shun such a large source of power.

While his mind had once again wandered, he realized Hermione hadn't stopped speaking. Severus coughed delicately in a bid to gain her attention. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

"Well, the limitations of Vold- the Dark Lord's work, were obvious from the start. This couldn't be a straight copy. For one thing, the book wasn't merely showing copies of other books, it was a living entity. For another, the Dark Magic necessary to make a Horcrux might kill me, and it would certainly fracture my mind."

Severus wasn't entirely certain about that. The witch was powerful enough that if she truly put her mind to it, she could probably manage anything - not that he would let her attempt something so foolish.

"So, as I said, it served as the inspiration but not the method. I was able to make a book that held the contents of other complete works by simply tapping them together - it was a complex web of charm-work that triggered on contact. That was the first stage of my research, actually, and the section that took the longest time."

"That would be useful in my line of work." He speculated drily. "Much easier than casting a spell and possibly more difficult to detect."

She nodded, curls bouncing with the movement. "I can show you the Arithmancy I used to create the charms if you like. Once I had the basic process down, I was able to focus my efforts on increasing the range - in other words, to increase the number of books that could be simultaneously stored. Given that the number of charms I had placed on the book seemed to double its weight, I knew it needed to be able to store at least 10 books before I could determine it a working, successful prototype."

"I think just having it working should count as a prototype, Hermione." He said gently. "After all, prototypes prove a thing is possible, it's the research that follows that makes it useful."

"Yes, well, I wanted to ensure it could be expanded on." She smiled prettily up at him. "It _can_ hold roughly 10 at the moment but there's no way for a librarian to monitor which books might be enclosed therein. I don't want to be responsible for a device that means people start stealing books - that could very quickly lead to the death of the book industry."

Her earnestness captivated him, even as he scoffed at her goodie-two-shoes thought process.

"I'm certain you'll figure out a way." He said. Her fingers were currently resting atop of her marvellous invention and he had to suppress the irrational urge to take his wife's hand and squeeze it gently with pride. He wanted her to know how pleased he was that she had married him, taken his surname in lieu of retaining her own; how he would do anything to ensure her safety. Luckily he had enough self-control not to start down that path as he was almost positive he wouldn't be able to finish the speech without bursting into tears, or else something equally embarrassing.

"Yes, well." Her voice had taken on a quality which could only be described as tired and slow now that she was no longer expounding upon her research. "I have to focus on other things, really. Harry's search for things that I can't talk about here." The corners of her mouth flicked up and she glanced at him.

He frowned at her. "That isn't something you should joke about, Miss Granger."

"Oh, but I wasn't!" She said, jerking upright.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and stared out of the window. Hermione didn't reopen her book as expected, but placed her chin into her hand and stared at him, making his skin crawl. While he was happy to focus on her, he hated to be studied in this way. He was confident that all his faults and failings over the years would be scrawled across his face and arms for her to read.

"I looked up the charm, you know." Hermione said, breaking the tense silence. "The _Fidelus_ one you had performed after our wedding."

Severus jerked his head away from the view of the suburbs of some city and arched an eyebrow. When the chit had had time to do so boggled him - they'd only been married a few hours. "Yes?" He prompted.

She fidgeted with the cuffs of her blouse, flicking at the tiny book on the chain adorning her wrist. "You didn't need to do that. For me. I would have taken you at your word."

Severus studied the witch, scratching at his chin before reinforcing the privacy wards for the third or fourth time on their journey. "I didn't do it for you." He said finally. "The Dark Lord's demands have grown more… radical in the years since his return. There are… certain aspects which I hope to be barred from on account of the _Fidelus_ charm. It is my hope that he will see the information he will gain from our union as more important than… testing my loyalty."

All color drained from Hermione's face. "Does Dumbledore know?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"He knows." Severus sighed. The first time the Dark Lord had ordered him to _perform_ with a Muggle, he'd refused. When Severus had finally made it back to the castle, still twitching from the _Crucio_ he had endured, Albus had demanded a full report. He had chided Severus for jeopardizing their position with Riddle.

"You joined knowing full well what kind of man he was," the Headmaster had said, "Now I'm asking you to stay for that very same reason."

Severus flinched away from Hermione's horror-filled eyes as they met his own. He shouldn't have told her - there was too much about the war she was too innocent to understand. It was easy to imagine her getting off the train and immediately apparating back to her parent's house.

His mind latched onto the scenario and replayed it over and over again. There were times where she applied for an annulment while others she simply moved abroad. The worse one, however, was when she took the form of a muggle woman chained to a wall, the Dark Lord urging Severus towards her with a sickly smile.

It may have only been a few minutes of silence, ten at most, but Severus felt as though he had aged a decade.

The feel of Hermione's hand upon his sleeve jerked him out of the cycle of destructive thoughts. Swallowing the bile which had risen in his throat, he covered it with his own slender hand, grateful for the reminder that these scenarios he could almost taste were not real. Not yet.

"Shall I change the topic?" She asked quietly. He nodded, a sharp downward movement that set his hair to swinging. While he waited for her to speak, Severus released her hand to massage the tight muscles at the back of his neck, in an effort to stave off the headache he could feel brewing.

"Alright." There was a slight pause as she searched for something worth discussing, before she settled on, "I'm looking forward to seeing the lab you asked them to prepare."

"It won't be much," he explained. "The cottage we will be taking is usually used to run short residential courses. They don't normally offer brewing facilities in the residences as their intended use is a get-away. A chance to stop working and enjoy nature, or so they say."

"Sounds boring."

"I wouldn't know. I've never had the chance to try it."

Hermione pursed her lips at the implications of his statement and turned her gaze back out over the fields which were taking over their view, the houses from before barely a dot on the horizon. "So it will have all the equipment we need?"

"It's mainly the space and bench they will provide." Severus said. "I wouldn't trust their cauldrons and we will be sourcing our own ingredients. But the bench should have small flame holders at a good distance apart, so we can continue brewing just as we did in the lab. I couldn't risk brewing in a transfigured space, you know how volatile some of our experiments can be when exposed to magic."

She smiled at him and gently rubbed her thumb up and down his shirt. Tiny flurries of goosebumps chased away from her touch and Severus was glad he was, as always, completely covered up so that she couldn't see how pathetically relieved he was that she would touch him.

"I'm looking forward to getting started." She said earnestly, pulling back. Severus tried not to appear disappointed at the loss of her touch. "I haven't brewed a single thing for over a week now. It might be odd, and I certainly never noticed before, but it felt strangely… itchy to not have anything useful to do after spending so many days brewing daily."

Severus smiled. "You seemed busy enough when you wrote your letter."

Hermione huffed. "With wedding preparations, certainly not with Order business. My wedding won't win us the war."

Severus tapped his lip. It might not win the war, but it might make it a bit more palatable.


	12. Chapter 12: Cottages

AN: I apologise for the dreaded Kindle inconsistency. I am sincerely sorry if it ruined the immersion for any of you. Hopefully this will make it up to you. Once the story is finished, I may edit it out of Chapter 11 altogether, as if it had never been. *makes ghost-like noises*

Thank you so much for your continued follows, favs and reviews. They keep my fingers tip-tap-tapping on the keyboard.

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Severus' writing had all of the grace and elegance of a drunk spider. Hermione laughed as the lady behind the bar tried to read it, her face squishing together until the roundness of her cheeks seemed to blot out her eyes. "Right." She said, placing the book back down onto the wooden counter and nodding as though that had decided it. "Mr. and… Mrs. Snape, wasn't it?"

The woman's smile seemed stuck to her face as though painted by some trickster god, brittle and not quite all there. "Your cottage is just over here."

The two newlyweds followed after her, Severus taking Hermione's rucksack by the top handle before she could. He could tell by the shape of her eyes that she wasn't sure whether to be grateful or angry, and stalked off before she could decide.

"So, the little shop onsite is staffed by muggles." The lady was saying. "Just down that lane and on the right. Up here is where you'll find the apparition point. It has a fairly strong _Notice-Me-Not_ charm that we recast once a week. Over on the left here we have the muggle allotment, and then just through those trees is the wizarding section."

Severus' long strides made it easy for him to keep up with the woman's half-hearted tour, but he could tell Hermione was struggling by the huffing and puffing coming from behind him. Bless her for not complaining, he thought.

"Excuse me, madam, but I fear we are losing my wife."

The expression on the receptionist's face when she swung around was a strange mix of condescension and disgust that Severus decided he didn't have the mental fortitude to explore at this particular moment. "Of course. As I was about to say, through those trees we have a small store which sells potion ingredients amongst other things, as well as the Quidditch pitch on the other side of that hill. Oh, and your cottage is up there too."

She trotted up the hill easily and disappeared over the top of it.

"She's in heels." His wife bemoaned, somewhat out of breath. "How can she be so fast in heels?"

"Come along," Severus urged, "Let me fly you up the hill. I won't go more than a foot above the ground."

"And how will you carry all our things and me? I'm perfectly fine here… on the ground."

"Trust me." He shrunk their bags down and tucked them into a pocket before holding his arm out to Hermione. "It will be easier this way."

She closed her eyes and managed to bring her breathing somewhat back to its normal cadence. Then, she scrunched up her nose and nodded rapidly. "Alright, do it. Just do it. Ok, I'm holding on. Are we … are we moving? Tell me when it's safe to open my eyes."

Laughing, Severus released her. "We're here." He said softly. She gripped his cloak tightly in her fists and when he tried to take a step back, he was prevent by her hold on him. The little witch was much stronger than she looked.

"We are?"

"Hermione, you can feel the ground beneath your feet." He said patiently.

She shook her head. "I can't feel anything below my knees, I'm too scared."

"Do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded, her eyes still screwed shut. "Then open your eyes."

Hermione peeked through her barely opened eyelids and then yelped in happy surprise, her hazel eyes flying open. "But I didn't feel anything, really." She said.

With a mischievous smirk, Severus leaned closer to his wife, unable to resist pressing his lips near the curve of her ear. "Now you can tell all your friends I'm a smoother ride than a broom."

She rolled her eyes at him, clearly unaffected by his innuendo, but a grin was plastered across her face as they turned back to the seemingly unamused cottage manager.

"Right this way," she repeated, motioning towards a line of cottages. "The one with the red door is yours."

She marched quickly towards it, and Hermione sighed wistfully. "Heels in mud, no less."

As soon as they made it to the patio, their guide swung to face them. "I hope you have a pleasant stay. Please do let us know if there's anything you need." The brittle, fake smile faded as the woman quickly bristled past them and down the hill. Hermione exchanged a glance with Severus, who shrugged and tapped his wand against the red door.

As soon as the cottage door closed behind them, Hermione barked a laugh. Her eyes glittered with joy. "She doesn't believe we're married." She said, her cheeks flushed pink with enjoyment. "She thinks we're here to have some torrid affair."

"She thinks I paid for you, more like," Severus said nonchalantly placing both of their bags onto the little luggage rack by the door.

"Severus!" Her exclamation was gilded with scandalised laughter, and he smiled.

"Is it really so hard to fathom? I am hardly handsome, while you are young and beautiful." He said it without emotion, as though he would read a list of potions ingredients or an account of Harry Potter's attendance in his class at Hogwarts. For him, it was simply a fact.

She didn't reply, and when Severus looked up he saw that tears sparkled in her eyes where joy had previously lit them. "Do you really think so?" she asked quietly, her voice full of doubt..

Severus scoffed. "Of course I do, you foolish girl. Anyone who looks at you would think so."

She frowned, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Most people think my features too plain and my hair too bushy to be considered pretty."

"Yes." Drawn by the pain in her eyes, Severus crossed the room to her, determined to make her see how misplaced this opinion of hers was. He pulled her to face a mirror hanging on the wall and slipped to stand behind her. "However, most of the people we know are idiots."

Severus studied her in the mirror as he pulled her hair back behind her ears, intently watching her reaction to ensure he would be able to see when she grew uncomfortable. Hermione's lips trembled like a leaf in an autumn breeze, even though she bit into the bottom one in an attempt to keep her reaction internal. As her gaze met his, Severus noticed her brown eyes were trustful and wide, almost doe-like.

"You should be looking at yourself." He said, his voice commanding yet gentle.

"I can't... I can't seem to look away from you."

Time stopped. His breath caught in his throat. If he even dared to breathe this moment of pure and utter joy would shatter around him like breaking glass.

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as she turned in his arms. Severus let the strands of her curls he had captured fall bit by bit from his hands. The witch was so petite that he could comfortably rest his chin on top of her head if he were so inclined and so delicate that he was afraid to move his arms in case he bruised her.

He was terrified of following the example of his father.

She rose up onto the balls of her feet and pressed her lips against his gently.

Firmly, he took hold of the tops of her arms and lowered her back to the floor, though he allowed his hands to linger on her shoulders.

"Miss Granger," he said softly slipping back into old habits while gazing into her eyes. "Hermione. There is no need for this. We both know that this marriage is a sham."

"Oh." Her lashes were suddenly full of tears again, the cause of which Severus couldn't possibly determine. Hermione jerked away from him and grabbed two books from her bag, clutching them to her chest. "Leave the rest." She told him, curtly. "I can put them away tonight." She pushed past him and bounded up the stairs, her heavy steps thudding against the wood.

As he turned to follow her, a scratchy tapping sound began to echo throughout the cottage. His wand slid into his hand easily, but he kept it lowered, stalking down the dark, narrow corridor towards the sound.

Pushing open a dark oak door, he crossed into a low-ceilinged kitchen. It was just high enough that he didn't have to crouch to navigate it, though had he been an inch taller he would have had difficulties. He stepped to the left to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling and kept his eyes trained on the shadows.

The tapping sounded again, more rapidly now and his heart seemed to speed up alongside it. A shape moved in the small circular window, causing more shadows to bounce around the cluttered kitchen.

When it moved back a little, Severus realised it was just an owl. All of the tension flooded from him as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. He released a long held breath.

The wizard opened the window and took out a small owl treat he'd baked himself from within his robes. He always kept a few on his person for emergencies, as cuts from the beaks and talons of the creatures seemed to take longer to heal and often reacted unpredictably to magical ointments and salves.

With a thankful hoot, the snowy owl, who Severus now recognized as Diana, Narcissa's current favorite, knocked his hand gently with its head before releasing the roll of parchment and taking off in a flurry of wingbeats.

Severus unfurled the parchment carefully, his eyes scanning the text.

 _Severus,_

 _Lucius informed me that Draco has been the Dark Lord's favourite for the past several weeks. Just as we had discussed: we are, of course, overjoyed. Won't you please come by and see him?_

 _Fondly,_

 _Narcissa_

Severus read the letter three times, committing the elegant script to memory before lighting the parchment with a tiny flame. He turned it in his hands until all that remained was a small pile of ash. Of course, they would have finally found out where the boy was now. Why couldn't he have gone into hiding as Severus had suggested?

While it was possible Narcissa had found out the day before his nuptials and decided to wait with the news, it was highly unlikely. Her priorities had always been to put her son first followed by her husband, family, and finally, her friends. Her convictions were as strict and unbending as pureblood society could be, which meant she'd only just found out.

Fuck. He'd been hoping for a quiet week, knowing that the Dark Lord would not summon him for at least a few days, allowing him time to bond with Hermione and determine the worth of any intelligence she might be able to provide. And now? He would have to throw himself into the snake pit once more in an attempt to save the son of his dearest friends. After all, Draco was very likely being tortured and Lucius and Narcissa had turned to Severus.

Despite the personal cost to himself, Severus knew he would not deny them.

He levitated the ashes of the letter into a small waste bin and slammed the window shut. With a wave of his wand, he tore his jacket from his shoulders and removed the charm upon it, causing it to return to the shape of his normal robes. Shrugging them over his shoulders, he billowed back through the corridor and ascended the stairs in only a few long strides.

He threw open the bedroom door with a bang, surprising Hermione, whose eyebrows seemed to jump up like soldiers to attention. "I must leave." He intoned, his voice low and serious "I will be back in less than 4 hours."

His dark eyes took in the curves and lines of her face, though it was the sight of the recent tear tracks which softened him. "I am sorry." He said. "I had hoped to have a little more time before leaving on a business arrangement, but I am afraid that Draco is in trouble."

"Draco?" She asked. Draco and Harry had become friends, of a sort, during their final year at Hogwarts and the Trio had been able to see another side of him. The real side. "Nobody has seen him since graduation. We've all been a bit worried, to be honest."

"Yes." Severus ran a hand through his hair, irritated with the sticky residue it left on his palm. "I suspect his friendship with Potter and the... sentiments he showed is why he is now in trouble. Cissy and Lucius have been searching for him since he disappeared two weeks ago from Malfoy Manor. They spent an inordinate amount of galleons on a private investigator who turned up absolutely nothing. Lucius just found him."

"And where is he?" She asked, her face growing pale again.

Severus' lips pressed together into a thin and bloodless line. "He was invited to take the Dark Mark. As you well know, the Dark Lord does not take well to rejection."

"Can I help?" Her hand flew to cover her lips in disbelief.

"I think not. A rescue mission would be needlessly risky. I will attempt to persuade the Dark Lord that his anger is misplaced and the boy will come around, and if that fails, I will give Lucius the tools to save his son."

He paused. "Go," she urged, "Save him."

Severus gave her a curt nod. "I will try."

"You always saved us." She said softly, looking up at him with innocence in her eyes. "I have no doubt you will find a way."

He drank in the sight of her curled up on the bed with the book she had shown him on the train cracked open over her lap, as though it would be the last time he might see his wife. Before he lost his nerve, Severus nodded, spun briskly on one booted heel and stalked from the cottage to the apparition point, his hand curled around a cold, silver mask.


	13. Chapter 13: For Better, For Worse

AN: As always, thank you to my wonderful beta LumosLyra, without whom this would make little sense and be hardly recognisable. That said, anything you do recognise (other than tropes!) probably belongs to J. K. Rowling and I make no money from any of it. Thank you as always for your lovely reviews, they make me smile like a loon!

TW: Discussions of torture.

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The air seemed mustier as soon as the door slammed shut behind Severus. Hermione rushed to the window to see his cloak billowing as he stalked down to the apparition point, worrying at a rough nail embedded into the frame. She had a better idea, now, of what he went through when he was called upon by the Dark Lord and it did nothing but fuel her anxieties.

If he came back as he had before, did they have enough Dreamless, any muscle relaxant, burn cream? The list of possible potions and salves she might need to pull from upon his return ran through her mind, twisting her stomach into knots. She would warm the bed, she knew the charm for that, but if Severus had brought any supplies with him she didn't know where they were. His use of magic on his cloak as well as their luggage was rather liberal, so she doubted his potions would be there.

Perhaps he hadn't brought anything.

Hermione gave up trying to smooth down the nail and brought a finger to her teeth instead, gnawing on the cuticle without fully realizing what she was doing. She prayed that he would be able to find Draco and get him back to his parents, but she wished he didn't have to throw himself into danger to do so.

Wrapping her arms around her chest, tightly, Hermione attempted to reason with herself. She was worrying for nothing. Severus Snape had been spying longer than she'd been alive and he knew exactly what he was going into. He would not do so unprepared.

Heaving a long sigh, she walked down the stairs. If something did happen to him, though, they had hardly parted on the best of terms. How could he push her away, so summarily put her in her place in just a few words? She could feel her worry trying to shift into anger and tampered it.

Since he had downed Lockhart without even breaking a sweat, Hermione had been thoroughly fascinated by Severus and once he proposed, years later, she'd realised that they would be a good fit. They were both bookish scholars who enjoyed testing the boundaries of known magic, they could be solitary and taciturn - Minerva had even said so when Hermione had written to her for advice.

She opened the first door she came to and wrenched open the curtains. As she did so, a plume of dust assaulted her, and she coughed, waving her hands, until it had settled again. At least with the curtains opened the room didn't seem so completely dank and dreary, although the sunlight revealed faded, curling wallpaper and empty shelves. There was an ornate fireplace painted over in white, but it had no fire - instead, a vase with dried roses decorated it. On the mantle there were two candlesticks, though no candles, set on either side of a small mirror. The armchairs by the fireplace looked comfortable, but Hermione was afraid to sit on them after the amount of dust that had exploded from the curtains. If only she knew a decent freshing charm!

With his reaction to her presumptuous kiss, Hermione realized that she barely knew the man she was joined to in marriage. Their union was certainly not a "love match", a fact that her parents had taken care to emphasize several times during the past week, and now she thought her plans for the future were rather childish and naive.

Severus Snape was a complicated man.

The next room Hermione entered was the dining room, and other than a small cabinet, a large table and several mismatched chairs, there was nothing to see. The small window overlooked the hill they had flown up earlier, and Hermione threw it open allowing the warm, fresh summer air to spill over her. She took a breath and felt the knot in her chest ease as she enjoyed the feeling of sunlight against her skin. Remembering the way he had flown her up the hill and his teasing afterwards, she felt as though the world was put back into place - that nothing could possibly go wrong.

She would open a few more windows to air out the cottage and go outside, she thought. Perhaps if the air were less thick she would be able to focus on her research and not dwell on when and in what condition her husband might return.

The kitchen was a cramped, narrow space with only one window and a wooden door, which didn't budge even after a rather powerful _Alohomora._ She huffed, her hands on her hips, and studied it for a second in irritation before deciding it wasn't worth it. If that was the potions lab Severus would never forgive her if she forced open the door and destroyed everything inside.

She went back up the stairs to the small bathroom, whose window also didn't open, and finally to the bedroom.

This room wasn't as unloved as the rest of the house - the bedsheets at least were a spotless white while the blanket she had moved so that she could sit and read had felt clean to her touch. She opened the window, basking in the warmth of the small breeze that promised to air out the cottage and gathered up her notebook and _Rhymes and Unreason_.

If she couldn't brew, then she may as well learn.

The cottage had a little bench along the wall overlooking the shared garden. There were three other buildings that Hermione could see in the 'wizarding' part of this small community, all identical to her own cottage. They were partially hidden by trees and bushes to give the illusion of privacy, but she could just make out the stonework whenever the leaves rustled in the breeze.

A bird twittered as it flew past, and Hermione smiled. She found the countryside idyllic and almost cozy once she escaped the confines of the cottage, and this was a lovely place to rest and read. Just as Severus had advertised. As she settled on the bench, Hermione pulled her legs up to curl underneath her and lowered her eyes to the book. She really wanted to see if she could make the charms on her library-in-a-book lighter and she imagined the chapter entitled _A Flap of the Pages_ would cover this - after all, how else could a heavy book take off flying except by first being light enough to do so?

Her fingers twisted the quill one way and another, the delicate feathers whispering along the curve of her cheek. She stared at the book in an attempt to will herself to read any of the words written on the page. Words had always been her escape from real life, a way of better preparing for the next problem. It had been easy to hide herself between page after page, centred and grounded. So, why now was it so difficult to stop replaying the gentle way he had pushed her back after their kiss?

How could she have been so stupid?

This wasn't some fairytale. Severus wasn't some man pining for a woman to understand him - he was a prickly academic who had agreed to marry her to save her from being paired off with someone awful. For as long as she had been in his care - from the time she started school - he had been protecting her. Wasn't their marriage merely an extension of that? He clearly had no interest in her, no desire for her… She had made a fool of herself.

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands, abandoning the book to rest open on her lap. Severus was in danger and she was replaying some stupid rejection over and over again as though she were still sixteen. She could be an adult about this.

Closing her book with a sigh, Hermione neatly ripped out a page from the back of her notebook, and began jotting down the ingredients for Dreamless Sleep and a basic headache tonic. The receptionist had mentioned that there was a little store just through that copse of elm. The trees themselves was a little witchy, Hermione had to admit - all strangling arms and dappled sunlight.

The wizarding world did tend towards melodrama.

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and brushed off a small red and black ladybird which had decided her top was home.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione locked the door some distance behind her and warded the cottage. It wasn't a particularly strong ward, she hadn't spent much time with that particular branch of magic yet. It had been fourth on her post-school summer study timetable before Professor McGonagall had suggested she help Severus brew. The one she had cast now had an unassailable alarm that would notify her immediately of a breach, which was probably good enough for a holiday home.

Then, picking up her book and tucking her quill into her hair, she walked across the grass towards the store.

The day was cloudy, which meant Hermione didn't feel like she was baking under the bright summer sun as she hurried across the clearing. Although it was still warm, this far from London felt comfortable, no longer stifling.

Even if she couldn't access what she purported to be the lab, Hermione thought it would be good to have the ingredients to hand if Severus happened to return in need… Hermione bit her lip and blinked back the sudden tears. She wouldn't think about that.

"Hello there!" A voice called out from inside the patch of elm. "Why, Esma, she looks like you did when we first met!"

A man emerged from the forest, a tweed jacket with large brown buttons wrapped securely around his frame. Had he been playing the part of an aristocrat in some play, the only missing things were a cane crooked into the corner of one arm and a springer spaniel just behind him. "Hello." He repeated.

"Hi." Hermione greeted, embarrassed at her slip in attention.

"What's that, dear?" A woman called out, and with a great shaking of the foliage she, too, appeared before Hermione. "Oh, hello!"

"She's carrying a book that looks the size of her, too." The man laughed. "Ha, that's how we know we've found a friend. I'm Nicholas."

He held out a meaty hand towards Hermione and she shook it gingerly. Despite the heat and his woolen clothes, the palm was dry and the handshake comfortable. "This here is Esmeralda, the light of my life."

In contrast to his meatier frame, the woman was pencil-thin and could have easily been a fashion model with her lithe figure and long limbs.

"Hermione. Lovely to meet you both."

"And you, dear. Always wonderful to meet a fellow bookworm." Esmeralda shot Hermione a quick, conspirator's grin. "I would probably be reading right now, but Nick got me addicted to the endorphins that come from a good solid hike just before dinner."

"That and I told her I would stop letting her into the stock room until she came with me." He laughed at his own joke, his hands spread wide across his stomach. Esmeralda smiled indulgently at him.

"So, were you going for a walk?" Esmeralda asked Hermione, looking her over. "That book is a little heavy to take with you on a hike, but I suppose there are some good reading spots on the way. Nick and I discovered a waterfall a couple of years back that I could live next to, it's so lovely."

"I was just popping to the store." Hermione explained. "My husband has been called away on business, so I thought I'd do some brewing while he was gone, you know, stock up."

"Oh, solid plan." Nicholas praised. "That's the problem with magic, at any moment you're only a short apparition away from the office. Sometimes I envy muggles - they don't have to deal with that. How long have you been married?"

"Erm," Hermione stared up at a cloud lazily chasing over the blue sky as she calculated. "Roughly 7 hours."

Nicholas put his hands on his hips, outraged. "And they couldn't leave him alone for a full day after his marriage? He must be very important to them. No wonder you need to keep yourself busy. Come along, Esma and I will accompany you. No use dwelling in your thoughts, eh?"

Hermione offered the pair a timid smile. "That would be lovely, thank you." She agreed, tucking the book under her arm.

"Oh, why don't you shrink that down?" Esmeralda asked. "I know a good shrinking charm or two."

"I can't." Hermione sighed, and turned the book over to the couple so they could see the title. "It's actually charmed against charms."

"Oh, look, dear. This is a second edition of Rupert's book! We must get her a copy of the third. He was just saying the other day he needed a bit of feedback before it's published."

Nicholas looked over the book and grunted.

"The third edition is much better." Esmeralda said, returning the book to Hermione. "We managed to persuade Rupert that nobody wants to buy a book on charming books that is repellent to _spells_ : after all you need somewhere to practice! It took some doing, let me tell you, so for the third edition he just charmed it to reset after 5 minutes. That way, if some errant student turned it into a screaming book you need only go have a cup of tea and it would be right as rain on your return."

"Esma can be wonderfully persuasive." Nicholas said, gazing at his wife indulgently. "To the left now."

They trailed after him in single file as he wound down the small hill, Hermione taking care to clutch the book to her chest as she brought up the rear. It wouldn't do to drop it, not if they really did know the author. Perhaps they could give her his owl address, so that she might ask him herself for help in her research. Imagine if she could see a book that wasn't even published yet?

Her mind was alight with possibilities, and she missed the tree root that caught her foot.

"Oh!" She cried out, landing hard on her hip, twisting to protect her precious cargo.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" Esmeralda hurried back to her. "Nick, take the book. Here, dear, let me see. Where does it hurt?"

Hermione groaned. Her whole leg felt on fire; she must have twisted something.

"Come along, let's get you sitting upright and then I can see to that ankle." Esma supported Hermione's weight as she reshuffled awkwardly, wincing. The ankle was already swelling and tender to the touch.

"Oh, there, there. I must have been going too fast." Hermione's eyes clung to Nicholas' face as his wife worked. "We've been coming here for years, Esma and I. It's beautiful in the summer, but you should come back in the autumn. Our first trip here we saw a phoenix re-hatching over the woods to the right. We don't get many of those events in Britain nowadays, as I'm sure you know."

Hermione hissed as the woman gently pressed on the ankle, her wand drawn and moving in complicated patterns as diagnostic runes hung in the air. Her hand was cold and soothing, but the feel of it made Hermione queasy.

"Why not?" Hermione growled through gritted teeth, desperate for a distraction.

"Oh, with the decline of the forested land. Scotland still has a few trees where you can safely hide a nest, but the muggles really did a number on us down here. We've barely got one forest left. Anyways, it was a beautiful display, the bird almost blended in with the trees at first."

Nicholas hooked his thumbs into his tweed jacket and placed on foot on a rock as he continued with his story. "And then it flew straight into the sky for the extinction event. Better than fireworks, let me tell you. All rose pink and a startling orange colour. Once it had finished it's dance - because that was what it was - it drifted down into the trees and vanished. I tried to paint it but my simple sketches can't quite capture the glory of that moment."

Esmeralda tapped on Hermione's leg twice with a gentle hand, and she looked down to see that while Nicholas had been talking, the slender woman had finished fixing Hermione's ankle.

"We never saw it again." Esmeralda finished the story, a note of longing in her voice. "But we keep coming back in hope. We didn't tell the company that runs the site, mind, so don't you either. Don't need them _advertising_ the event." she shuddered.

Hermione nodded in agreement, but privately considered keeping such a thing to oneself was selfish. They'd already been lucky enough to see it once, so what was the harm of allowing others to witness it too? It wouldn't take away from their experience.

"Can you stand?" Esmeralda asked. "We're nearly there. The ankle will still be a little tender, so no running on it, but otherwise you should be safe to walk around." She paused for a few moments before asking. "Are you muggleborn?"

Hermione tensed.

"Not for any of that nonsense about blood purity." Esmeralda chided gently "It's just that the treatment of muggleborns is a little different. Because you weren't surrounded by magic in your youth, it takes a little longer for the body to realise it's been healed. The swelling should go down in the next few days if you are. If you're not, then it'll be gone in an hour."

"Are there really physiological differences between the two?"

"Of course! Just as there are between men and women. Now come along, let's get you standing."

With a great deal of help from Esmeralda the pair of them managed to get Hermione to her feet, and although she didn't trust the ankle to bear her weight, it did. Once she was fully upright again, she was able to test out walking for a few paces

"Are you a Healer?" Hermione asked, amazed as she was able to flex and point her toes without pain, keeping one hand securely wrapped around a nearby tree branch.

"Oh, no. I was a mediwitch for fifteen years, before I met Nick. Nowadays I just dabble."

"Dabble my arse." Nicholas yelled from behind them, feeling that since he had led them into danger, he didn't deserve to take point anymore. "Esmeralda is researching exactly that, treating muggleborns. It isn't just that there are differences in the way magic and the body interact, there are also diseases that muggleborns are less or more susceptible to - isn't that right, Esma?"

"Yes, dear. I've been doing a lot of work across the medical community, alongside a Professor we know at Greenback Hospital. He gives weight to the project, otherwise I'm not sure people would take it seriously. Muggleborns have a resistance to many of the virus and bacteria-caused illnesses, because they have usually been exposed to them in their youth, most likely from their time on the playground."

While she spoke, Esmeralda led the group in a winding path down the remainder of the hill. The woman never seemed to need to take a breath, a fact which simultaneously amazed Hermione and made her feel woefully inadequate.

"But they have no tolerance for magical maladies, at least not at first. Luckily, most muggleborns in the UK get snapped up by Hogwarts as soon as they can, but those that come in later - for example if they were privately tutored in Bulgaria and transfer here for their final exams - are usually rather ill within a month or two."

"And it goes both ways!" Nicholas interrupted.

Esmeralda chuckled. "It does go both ways. Wizarding families are less likely to have any immunity to, say, chicken pox. So the children who go to Hogwarts are exposed to it at 11, instead of younger when the muggles are typically spreading it about. Which is all very good, but - oh look, there's the gift shop and next to it, the general store. That's where you'll be buying your ingredients."

"Your research sounds fascinating." Hermione said earnestly, her eyes round and wide. "Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey? She's the current Matron at Hogwarts. I'm not aware of whether she will have kept historical data, but I'm sure she'd be more than happy to record some in the coming year."

"Oh, yes, that would be marvellous." Esmeralda squeezed Hermione's hand between two of her own. "Would you be able to put us in touch? I want to wait a little with publication anyway, until all this trouble in the papers has died down - but that gives me more time. And I'm sure your Pomfrey will have good anecdotes for a book, - if the paper is well received."

"And even if it isn't." Nicholas said, overtaking the two witches so he could hold the door open for them. "After you."

Based on the dimensions she had seen from outside, the humble stone cottage was somewhat larger on the inside than it ought to have been, apparently having been enlarged by one owner at some point in its history by at least five feet on all sides. Scattered with products, wares, and a few unknown items, every surface, every shelf and every floor tile seemed to have its use. She was reminded of the fact that Crooks was still safely at Grimmauld when she saw the half of shelf of cat food she would have to carefully maneuver around to even enter the shop. She wasn't entirely certain that she would be able to make it past without the entire shelf crashing to the floor.

Hermione wondered if Severus knew she had a Kneazle. He must do, he was certainly an observant sort.

She worried at her lip with her teeth as Nicholas urged her in with a gentle push. Gingerly making her way past the cat food, Hermione found a shelf of firewood, stacked precariously on top of barbecue coal and wood chips.

"It has to be somewhat of a challenge to get in," Nicholas said cheerfully, steering Hermione by her shoulder with one meaty palm. "Or else the muggles would start coming here too. They have their own store, a'course, but it's not restocked as fast as this one. Come along."

The store was darker the further they moved into it, and the second time Hermione banged her elbow into an item that jutted out of the shelves she sighed and drew her wand. "Is there some rule against _lumos_?" She asked, not wanting the whole place to catch on fire.

"No," an unfamiliar man's voice hummed, sliding in between the shelves that Hermione had had such difficulties with. "No, not at all. Cast it, cast it!"

Obediently, Hermione did just that. A flare of light burst from the tip of her wand. She blinked hard to get rid of the black spots in her eyes as the conjured light faded to a more normal strength.

The unknown man giggled. "Gerard Aberdale, pleased to make your acquaintance." He held out a hand to Hermione, which she took gingerly - and passed straight through. The man snickered. "Not so corporeal these days, not so corporeal. Come along, right this way. What can I do you for?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Esmeralda, who nodded encouragingly. "He's quite harmless." She explained. "Old Gerard doesn't get many visitors, you see."

Swallowing away her apprehension, Hermione pushed deeper into the store. The light coming from the tip of the wand made the products seem to jump out at her as she went.

"This way, this way!" A voice called out as she reached a cramped wooden desk.

"I'm… ah, I have a list." She stuttered. "Nicholas, if I could please have the book?"

"Certainly. And call me Nick." He winked as he handed over Hermione's precious cargo, leaving her to her shopping and intently studying several candlesticks lined up neatly against one wall.

Hermione pulled out the shopping list from between the well-thumbed pages of her textbook, and pushed it over the desk to the ghost. He scanned it where it lay, making no effort to pick it up, and then nodded in satisfaction once he was done.

Hermione gripped the desk tightly as three paper bags unfurled themselves and started dancing around her head as several jars on various shelves began to rattle. Gerard laughed again as an equal number of small glass bottles and wooden boxes joined in the hectic waltz in the air. "What fun!" The ghostly man said, clapping his hands together and raising them up above his head, "What! Fun!"

Just as Hermione was starting to relax, the vibrating jars opened with a loud bang and she jumped involuntarily, emitting a small squeak. Liquids streamed into the glass bottles, insects flew and buzzed into the wooden boxes, herbs fluttered into the paper bags; each item upon her list landing neatly into a waiting receptacle. They span faster and faster, spinning in intricate patterns around the shopkeeper's head as Hermione endeavoured to keep track of which container housed each reagent - a task which soon proved impossible.

"Is that all?" The ghost asked, smiling up at her, eyes gleaming with excitement as the reagent waltz stilled into a quiet queue of bits and bobs waiting to be packed up into a bag.

"Yes... thank you sir." Hermione murmured, gazing upward at the items currently defying gravity, a feat not uncommon in the wizarding word, but unexpected nonetheless. She wasn't certain if everything on her list had made it into the small bags due to the packaging whirl. She'd never seen a ghost interact with the "real" world in a such a way, and the only exception she could think of might be Peeves - if a poltergeist counted. She couldn't quite marry up how powerful Gerard must be with the fact that he was a simple cashier of a tiny apothecary and bits-and-bobs holiday shop in the middle of nowhere.

"2 Galleons, my dear. Just the two."

Hermione slid them over the counter and the ghost swept his arm through them, emitting another giggle. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the coins rushed towards the cash register as Hermione's items fell into a larger paper bag with soft thumps, one-by-one.

"Come again soon, will you? Won't you?" Gerard didn't wait for an answer, however, fading away into invisibility as Hermione opened her mouth to respond.

She turned back to Esmeralda instead. "I cannot _wait_ to tell Severus about this." She said, so excited she could barely keep from bouncing up and down on her toes. The ingredients crinkled against her hand as she picked them up, their earthy smell a reminder that she should prepare some of them - but as she couldn't get into the room beyond the kitchen…

"Shall we walk you back?" Nick asked, appearing from behind a shelf. He slid a few sickles across the wooden bench and grabbed a large bag of cookies from the side. "I'm rather partial to these. Esma managed to persuade me not to buy them on our return from the hike but… Well, we had to come back."

Esmeralda rolled her eyes and cuffed him neatly on the shoulder. Nick promptly captured her hand and made a show of gobbling it up, causing the witch to chuckle, before kissing the back of her hand tenderly. Hermione's eyes stung at the clear affection between the two - this was what she wanted, a partnership where you could be yourself, be silly one moment and serious and studious the next.

"It's bad for your heart and you know it," Esma said, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

"You'll just have to help me burn it off later." The man teased, ripping open the bag and grinning into its depths.

"Nick!" She gasped, though she grinned widely as his innuendo. "We have company, behave."

The three of them slipped carefully from the store, once again avoiding the mound of cat food on the way out. Esmeralda sighed as she brushed a cobweb from the shoulder of Nick's jacket. "Did you want to join us, Hermione? For dinner, that is."

Hermione hesitated.

"Our food's not that bad, I promise." Nick said.

"Honestly, I'm fine." Hermione brushed away their comments. "I think I just need a rest. Thank you for the invitation, but my husband will be home soon and I'd like us to spend tonight together - alone. Perhaps later in the week we could catch up? How long are you staying?"

"We'll be here for another fortnight." Esmeralda studied Hermione carefully. "At least let us walk you to your door."

"Oh, of course. Please do, I'd like the company."

They seemed to have slowed down for Hermione - not that she minded as not everyone could be all leg like Esmeralda. Despite the mediwitch's care her ankle still felt a little stiff as they climbed the hill. She was hesitant to stress it too much and risk causing further damage.

As they turned onto the green, Hermione gasped. Just outside the range of her wards four angry owls were pacing back and forth on a long black trunk.

"Is that one for you, dear?"

"I suppose it must be for Severus." Hermione said, "As they are currently parked outside our cottage."

Nick laughed and clapped her on the back. "Then we know where to come by later in the week to pressure you into dinner, don't we?" Giving her a cheerful wave, he turned back towards the path, open cookie bag in hand. Hermione smiled.

Crossing her arms, Esmeralda pursed her lips and tilted her head towards Hermione. "I'm not leaving until you are safely inside." She said. "I don't want you struggling with that box alone on that ankle, undoing all my hard work."

"You are very kind, but I think I can manage." Hermione held up her wand and dismantled her wards causing one of the owls to screech at her, its wings held behind its back.

"I think you ought to hurry, they seem rather tempramental."

Hermione threw an exasperated look towards the woman, and carefully approached the box. They studied her silently until she was less than a pace away before flying up one by one. The last owl to leave buffeted Hermione with a large wing before sailing away.

"It must have been keyed to you somehow. It's how we managed our house move, spelled all the boxes to open only for one of us and sent them via some muggle parcel service. You'd be surprised the number of time somebody tried to open them."

Despite how charming Hermione found Esmeralda to be, she seemed to natter on and on at times and Hermione really needed a bit of peace and quiet. Hermione's smile was as painful as nails on a chalkboard, and she hugged her heavy book closer to her chest before placing it on the chair she'd planned to curl up all afternoon on the porch, next to her notebook.

Then she attempted to pick up the trunk. It was heavy, Severus had clearly expected to be here when it arrived, although she wasn't sure how the slender wizard would have fared any better than she was doing.

Glancing back, Hermione saw that Esmeralda had her wand out. "No!" She shouted, causing the other witch to pause. "You can't use magic on this either."

"What is with you and your no magic rules?" Esmeralda laughed as she picked up the other end of the trunk by the small metal handle. "Honestly, _would_ you rather be a squib?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed open the door of the cottage with her shoulder. As soon as the trunk was safely inside the door both women dropped it gingerly to the ground. Esmeralda winced as she massaged the palm of her hand, where the handle had pressed a pink white line into it.

"Oh, this is the old _san_." Esmeralda perked up, looking about her. "I didn't remember from the outside, I always remember it as having a green door. How exciting."

The witch tapped her fingers together as she looked around.

"San?" Hermione asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Sanitarium, dear. The muggle boarding school which used to own all these little cottages kept this one. You know, you send your sick students to the san and the nurse looks them over."

"Oh, like the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts."

Esmeralda pressed her lips together and hummed in agreement. "Well, I really must be going. Someone has to start the tea and unfortunately it's my turn. Not so many places to order out around here."

The mediwitch captured Hermione's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Do let us know if you need anything, anything at all, won't you dear? I really do want to give you a copy of that book - it's not out yet, mind, but he needs a few people to check it over for spelling mistakes and so on. Not the spells - those are all verified by Arithmancers before a few of our reckless friends get their hands on them and cast them six ways to Sunday. They are all perfectly safe."

Hermione nodded. "I will. I think I just need to lie down for a moment."

"Of course, dear." With a final squeeze, Esmeralda opened the door and was gone.

Hermione sighed and stared at the trunk.

She really hoped Severus had sent it, although now she was staring at it… it was a rather ominous looking box, with dull silver buckles and scuffed metal corners. The most logical option was that it contained Severus' potions stores, after all, what else would he send in a trunk without reducing the size? On the other hand, if it was sent by someone else who knew how he brewed, it could easily be some sort of trap or trick. An entire generation knew Severus was against "foolish wand waving" from their very first potions class as well as subsequent lectures as to why.

Hermione huffed and shook her head. No use worrying about it now - after all, she already had the ingredients she would need when he returned, and if he was uninjured he could take care of the box himself.

Hermione opened the door and looked about, but aside from the rapidly retreating form of Esma, who seemed to be heading across the green grass towards a small path Hermione hadn't spotted before, there was no one there. She reset the wards before grabbing her book and retreating inside.

After thirty minutes of sitting in the bedroom waiting, Hermione's stomach growled. Had she known it would take so long for Severus to return to the cottage, she would have accepted the offer of dinner, but now it was far too late and, due to her laser focus on the need to procure potion reagents, she hadn't picked up any food at the store.

There was a loud bang just outside the cottage.

Hermione's instincts were not as honed - nor as paranoid - as her husband's, but nonetheless after a childhood of war and plotting, she was prepared. Her wand was in her hand before she moved a muscle, and then, cautiously, she traversed the stairs.

The third one down squeaked indignantly, and she cursed, transferring her weight to the side and waiting for anything to happen. Nothing did. She released the breath she was holding in a long, quiet rush and crept downwards again.

Something scrambled against the door. Hermione's wards hadn't alerted her to a malicious presence , which meant...what? That this was an animal, or someone clever enough to destroy her alarm rune without her even noticing?

Her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts now.

She swallowed and pulled the chain over the closed door as quietly as she could, before taking a firmer grip on her wand and opening it just an inch inwards. It caught against her shin but she didn't make a sound.

And then she saw him.

Severus Snape was sitting on the floor next to the door, cross-legged, staring up at her with bloodshot eyes. She slammed the door shut to wrench off the chain before throwing it open again.

"Severus?" She asked, kneeling down to be eye level with her husband. "Are you alright?"

He held up a hand - whether to silence her or ask her to come closer Hermione couldn't tell. She did both, closing her mouth and inching towards him under the pretence of sitting cross-legged.

Her yoga pants could take it.

When she caught his eyes again, she saw that they were brimming with unshed tears.

"Oh Severus," She bit her lip. What could she do? "Come inside."

He nodded, and rose unsteadily to his feet. As he did so, his body set to shaking, and Hermione grabbed an arm to keep him upright. Her hand came away covered in blood, unseen against the heavy black fabric.

"Is any of this yours?" She whispered, swallowing her disgust.

He blinked at her hand and shrugged, looking away from her.

She managed to support him through the threshold, but as soon as he was clear of the door he pulled away from her, sliding down a wall to the ground, his knees folded before him. He was sandwiched next to the black trunk, allowing it support his weight.

Hermione locked the door, chained and bolted it, and then flew to his side.

"Hermione." Severus choked out, his voice hoarse and raspy "You don't know what I've done. You shouldn't _be_ here."

"I can work out more than I should." She said softly. "And you're my husband, where else would I go?"

"Away. If you knew…" He tailed off and stared at his kneecaps before swallowing. "I appealed on Draco's behalf, alongside Lucius."

His voice was scratchy, not at all like his usual smooth baritone. Seeing him like this, Hermione just wanted to clutch him to her and tell him everything would be alright.

"The Dark Lord believed that Draco may need some correction, some strong authority figure separate to his mother. Lucius was clearly failing, given Draco had been seen with you and Potter so often in the last year. I didn't dare put myself forward, suggested the senior Crab. He required time to think about our plea and demanded _entertainment_ in the meantime." Severus shivered at the word, and before Hermione's eyes it seemed to flow into a tremor. She grasped at his shoulders before he could slump to the side.

When the trembling subsided Severus grabbed a fistful of his hair. He didn't groan or exclaim in any way as he did so - it was unearthly how silently he seemed to absorb his pain. Hermione shuddered at the thought of how much torture it must take to force this man's voice hoarse and his normally rigid posture bent and broken.

Hermione was at a loss. What could she say in the face of so much pain?

"Severus." Her tongue hesitantly touched her lip as she considered her next words, her grip softening on his shoulder. "Listen to me." His head twitched but he made no other acknowledgement. "I have no idea what you're going through. I can guess at what he made you do, but I can't experience it. I don't know what to say." She admitted. "But you did this for the war. You did whatever this was so that one day we can all be safe and out of his clutches."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Severus spat, a bubble of blood forming at the corner of his mouth. "She was the same age as you. So young, so innocent. But she was muggle and had no defence against us." He gagged. "Greyback said he'd chosen her because he heard her laugh, and it was almost magical."

Hermione sighed, and reshuffled so that she was facing in the same direction as her husband, her back to the wall, their arms barely touching. Severus had tortured, possibly killed someone. She _should_ be shocked, was shocked, wasn't she? But this wasn't who he was, he hadn't done such things of his own volition. She had to make him see that too.

"Severus, what would have happened had you refused him? Draco would no doubt have been punished, you would have been tortured, maybe killed. I'm certainly not blind to what a madman he is, and neither are you. You were forced into this situation, it is not one you would have chosen, nothing more."

"But I did." His voice broke, and the words tumbled out. "I wanted to be so powerful that nobody would ever shame me again. I wanted Potter and his infernal little gang to never, ever get the jump on me. So when Riddle seemed to hold me in high esteem, I took the bait - and the mark."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she turned her head to him, trying to gauge his reaction between the strands of hair obscuring his features.

"Why did you turn back?" She asked.

He pulled his knees closer to his chest and stared at the wall opposite for so long that Hermione thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he sighed, and thumped his head back against the wall.

"The Dark Lord had started to pull away from me. My potions weren't enough, not when Lucius was able to provide him so much money and the Black sisters pulled in followers like blood in the water. I was nothing, I had nothing - a little cleverness when it came to spell creation, a talent with cauldrons, but nothing of value to him, not when we were trying to take over the Ministry. He could easily buy all the Veritaserum he needed."

His eyes were cold and flat as he spoke.

"I overheard a prophecy. I had no right to do so, but I took it to him. I thought that if I did, he would favour me in some way, take out his anger on my worthless hide a little less often." He blinked again, and another tear rolled down his cheek.

It took Hermione a second to join the dots. "Harry's?" Her voice quavered.

Severus swallowed and nodded. She pulled away, but as she did so he twisted, grabbing her wrists. "I didn't know, it wasn't as obvious as all that. How could I have known what he was going to do with it?"

She met his eyes, and her heart broke at the desperate longing she saw there. Gently, she wrapped his hands in hers, breaking his hold on her. "You made a mistake," she said, hesitantly.

"Not even my first." Severus slumped against the wall, and she refused to let go of his hands, allowing him to pull her down with him. "Harry's mother, Lily, was my best friend. We'd met when we were 6 or 7, I can't remember, but she represented everything my life was not. She was sweetness and light, whilst I had nothing. Her parents adored her, mine wanted me gone."

While he spoke, Hermione summoned a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water. She placed it by his knee and he encased it gently in his long fingers as though it were something to be treasured, staring at it. "We used to play tricks on her sister, just little ones. Petunia was absolutely awful to her at times, and at other times quite looked up to Lily. Lily had a passion for life that was hard to ignore." He paused to take a slow draw of water. "And then we fell out, and a few years later I gave the Dark Lord a prophecy that made him kill her. I didn't even know she was pregnant when I heard it, not that it matters. None of this matters."

He took a ragged breath, and surprised Hermione by continuing to explain. "He was only violent infrequently, back then, and only to his followers. Most of the time he was a completely different person. He always said he prefered to persuade people than force their hand. A political thought leader, not a lunatic, and Riddle played his part well. Whenever anything showed up in the papers about us, he'd say it was slander, that they were afraid we'd get in. Everything appeared sane from the inside. As sane as any abusive relationship. Until the prophecy. He cut them down because they _might_ be the parents the prophecy pointed to."

Severus sighed. "It was my fault."

"I don't think it was." Hermione said, frowning. "You made a mistake, as we have established, when you gave him the prophecy... but he was the one who killed them. If you had given it to a rational man, he may have taken a different approach."

Severus shook his head violently, banging the meat of his palm against the trunk's metal bindings.

"When did you turn from them?" She asked quietly. "When did you start working for Dumbledore?"

"The night I took the prophecy to the Dark Lord and he told me he _knew_ it was the Potters. I knew Lily had married James, and I wanted to protect them - her. So I went to Dumbledore that night and begged him to save them. It was too late by then, the damage had been done."

"So you tried to save them. You didn't kill them. A long chain of events and people led up to their deaths, but the only man who deserves any blame is that monster of a Dark Lord! Peter Pettigrew betrayed them far more than you did and Dumbledore betrayed them by not arranging them a proper Secret Keeper. It was not your fault."

In the silence, fat droplets of rain began to patter on the roof before becoming a steady, dull sound. Her stomach twisted, reminding her of her hunger, and she sighed.

"You have spent all this time protecting the Wizarding World from a madman at great personal cost." She said, brushing the dirt from her knees. "Even now you are putting yourself into danger to keep others safe. You are a good man, Severus Snape."

He licked his lips and opened his mouth.

"I didn't even think you would still be here when I got back." He admitted in earnest, a thick layer of fear and desperation in his tone. "Don't you see? I'm a bitter, untrusting old man who does awful things to defenceless women in his free time. Go back to Grimmauld, where it's safe. Go back to your friends."

She looked down at him, and shook her head. "Severus, we're married now. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health. I'm not going to leave because you are suffering, forced to do unspeakable things."

He blinked at her, dumbfounded, and then folded his head against her shoulder. She hesitated, but when he didn't pull away she moved her hand up to his hair and began brushing through it with her fingers.

He made a small noise of pleasure that seemed to fill Hermione with all of the promises and relief of a new day.

"Severus?" She asked softly, a few minutes later.

He didn't reply. His breathing had evened out, and his head was heavy against her shoulder. He'd fallen asleep against her.

Hermione quietly cast a simple diagnostic spell, suddenly afraid that he had passed out from blood loss while she sat here making him _feel better_ like a fool.

He was fine, just exhausted.

The fact that he could be so vulnerable and open with her made her heart swell and she risked pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the top of his head. She cleaned her hands, summoned her book and cracked it open over her knees, glancing over at him every few paragraphs with a soft smile she was unable to hide.


	14. Chapter 14: Consummation

Thanks as always for all the wonderful reviews. You have no idea how many random smiles you've caused while I'm supposed to be working!

TW: Talk of severe torture. Take care of yourself *hug*

* * *

She was reading again. She had been reading continuously since they had set a _Tempus_ charm over the cauldrons at 11 and would no doubt continue until he served lunch in 30 minutes. She was obviously uncomfortable with his behaviour last night, a fact with which Severus empathized.

Severus was furiously embarrassed - torture had no effect when it came to inducing him to spill his darkest secrets, but apparently a pretty face, _his wife's pretty face_ , asking him if the blood on his robes was his was akin to a dose of _Veritaserum_ combined with a _Babbling Brew._ He grimaced - he was lucky the Dark Lord favored such a brute-force approach to obtaining information or else the war would have been lost years ago.

She had barely looked at him before he pulled out the first cauldron this morning, a bowl of soggy cereal at her elbow. Every five minutes or so she would pull the spoon to her mouth in a show of eating something, nibbling at the end whilst her eyes remained fixed on the book before her. Her other hand continuously moved to take notes in her neat script, circle or underline various words and sometimes even full sentences, and at one point, furiously sketch a complex looking diagram only to scratch it all out moments later with an irritated scowl upon her lips.

Severus was grateful for the civility between them as they brewed. She was clearly dedicated to the Order's cause, doing her duty with aplomb and some humour as they quietly chopped, crushed, plucked, squeezed, and stirred in tandem until all of the day's potions on the brewing schedule were simmering. Unfortunately, just as Severus had cast the _Tempus_ charm over the cauldrons, she had retreated once more into the pages of the book.

Her fingers were stained blue from her incessant note taking and there was already a quill tucked into her curls. With one last glance towards his wife, Severus padded to the kitchen to begin preparing lunch.

He set a frying pan on the hob, carefully crafting the flame to the perfect level much as he would for any of his cauldrons, peeled six slices of bacon from the block, and once the pan was the perfect temperature, placed them into the pan. It appeared that the fridge had been stocked overnight by what Severus presumed to be a house elf belonging to the resort. Hermione's stomach growled loudly as the smell permeated the room, but she didn't look up.

Severus had planned to cook something more complex, a show of how his potions skills translated to the culinary arts. He so rarely had the chance to cook. At Hogwarts, it would have been considered an insult to the elves, and at Grimmauld Molly practically lived in the kitchen. When she wasn't holding dominion, the most cantankerous elf would be lying in wait for anyone stupid enough to attempt to use the worksurfaces.

In the end he was too tired. She would have to make do with a simple hot breakfast.

"Mrs. Snape." Severus tried, cracking an egg on the side of the pan.

"Mmmm?"

"Would you mind helping me prepare the lunch? Perhaps by setting the table?" He suggested.

"Yes, of course. On it." Despite her words, her body did not uncurl itself from the small seat below the window and even while she spoke to him her quill scratched frantically across the parchment. It was clear where her attention truly lay.

The bacon began to curl before she spoke again. "Just one more second."

By the time she actually emerged from the book with eyes rimmed in pink and her hair wild and barely held back from her face, there was a plate of eggs and bacon waiting for her and several triangles of toast waiting for her in the middle of the table.

She smiled across the table at Severus."Thank you. And sorry, I know I'm terrible. Sometimes I just get caught up in researching and lose track of time. It's like the world fades away, almost." A blush stained her cheeks, and Severus welcomed its return. "I know that sounds stupid."

Ducking her head, Hermione applied her attention to her food as Severus chuckled. "Not at all. I imagine you will find us to be similar in that regard as I periodically become hyper-focused on my brewing."

The thought soured in his mouth. The joy of losing track of time, of immersing oneself so fully in one's task was unallowable until after the war ended. Every minute counted.. Of course, this meant she would only see him like that if the war was over, and if the war was over it was highly likely they would no longer be living in the same house, or, at the worst, one of them would be dead.

He gazed at her as she ate, her eyes flicking back to the textbook she'd nearly finished, and felt his heart sink. It would be the kind thing to do, to let her be free.

A squawk called Hermione's attention to the window where a large snowy white owl was perched along the sill. Heaving a sign she opened it The dark smudges beneath her eyes were highlighted by the light of sun as Hermione passed the owl a bit of bacon in exchange for the three letters clutched within its talons.

Two of the letters were encased in envelopes made of thick parchment and emblazoned with the Hogwarts seal, the unmistakable script of the Headmaster across the front addressing one each to Hermione and Severus. The third was a small folded note which Hermione immediately unfolded and started to read.

Severus turned his attention to his own missive, which she slid to him across the table without tearing her eyes from the page. He ripped open the envelope and a small newspaper cutting fluttered down into his lap. He quickly snatched it up and examined it.

The photograph was of a tearful woman embracing a slender man, who also seemed to be crying.

 **Ministry on Warpath - Fraudulent Marriages Dissolved**

Severus scanned the rest of the article, his stomach turning to lead. The subjects of the article, presumably the man and woman in the photograph, had been best friends before the marriage law had been introduced. The man was homosexual and the pair had decided to marry each other to get out of being forced to marry anyone else, and… of course, they hadn't consumated the marriage. The Ministry had dissolved the union after their inability to consummate in two weeks had triggered an investigation, and chosen alternative partners for them.

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The notecard from Albus merely read. "You know what must be done. If your marriage is negated, Lily's son will be in even more danger."

He folded the notecard neatly in the middle and tore it in half before tossing it in the fire. The cutting he kept in case he needed to persuade the chit of the necessities of following through with the order; no doubt she had received a similar missive in the envelope she still had yet to open.

"It's from my friend," she said as she pushed the letter across the table towards Severus. "I met her yesterday. She and her husband helped me when I twisted my ankle."

"You twisted your ankle?" Severus exclaimed in surprise, concern evident in his voice. "Why didn't you tell me? What happened?"

She blinked, surprised by his reaction. "You were gone. I went to the store to buy potions ingredients, caught my foot and fell. That's all. Nothing dramatic happened."

"Let me see it."

"I mean… sure, of course you can, but Esma is a mediwitch."

"She told you she was a mediwitch, that doesn't mean she necessarily is one." Severus retorted in a matter-of-fact tone, swinging around the table to kneel before her. "Which one?"

Hermione huffed but obediently held her left ankle up to him. Carefully, he pulled down the small sock to reveal a bright orange bruise. He hissed as he palmed his wand and quickly sketched two or three diagnostic spells through the air. He was struck by the realization that she had been in pain yesterday and he hadn't been here.

The regret which trickled down his spine was irrational. He had laid the groundwork for rescuing young Malfoy from much worse and Hermione herself had urged him out of the door. He couldn't have known she would get it into head to go on a walk, injure herself, be left at the mercy of strangers...

If they had left a curse on her, if they had even left a tracking spell woven over her ankle, Severus wasn't sure what he would do. He could feel the anger snapping at his heels, waiting to be unleashed.

The third detection spell came back unremarkable; it appeared the supposed mediwitch really did only heal Hermione's injured ankle, though it was possible that any other spells she had cast, malicious or otherwise, had faded away by morning. Severus let his fingertips touch the bruise. Hermione hissed. "You're cold." She chided, although she didn't move her foot away.

"Perhaps it will be good for the bruise." He remarked, dismissing her accusation. "I can't believe you were foolish enough to go out while I was gone. That couple could have been the Dark Lord's best friends, or worse! Self-interested people bungle about all day ruining lives."

"I wanted to make sure we had ingredients in the house in case you came back hurt."

The sincerity in those hazel depths seemed to leap out at him.

He let go of her ankle, handed her the sock, and stood up. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself." He chastised abruptly, brushing the dirt from his cloak. It hadn't really been what he had intended to say, but it was the truth. She couldn't go about putting herself into danger on the off chance he would need her assistance.

She sniffed, Severus couldn't tell whether from annoyance or sadness, and pulled up her ankle sock, eyes glued to the table. She was toying with the letter from Albus, turning it over in her hands. Severus winced. Not the best time.

He sat down in the chair next to hers, gently extracting the letter from between her nervous fingers.

"Thank you for worrying about me," he muttered. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just… I want you to put yourself first, alright? I am always in danger, constantly, and I can't have you risking yourself to save me."

"It was hardly like I stood down Vold- the Dark Lord," she snarled, her eyes flashing with anger. "I went on a walk in our holiday village to the store. I wasn't endangering myself."

With pursed lips, Severus attempted to explain. "Now that you are my wife, I suspect more people than ever before will want to kill you. The Dark Lord excluded, perhaps, but you have been on his list for most of your Hogwarts career, starting at the end of your Second Year. Other Death Eaters want to kill you to prove themselves more powerful than I am while some of the other Order members would attack you or kidnap you to keep you safely away from me. I just… I want you to be safe."

She was staring at him, her rose-pink lips parted as though she were shocked by his admissions.

"No man is an island, Severus Snape." She implored softly. "I hope that you will grow to trust _me_ , at least, given that you trust nobody else."

He smiled weakly and ran his hand through his hair. She didn't understand. Each and every time he had reached out for help, he had been bitten, pushed to the side and ignored. Even before the Marauders, even before Hogwarts, there had always been another bully where a loving network of family and friends ought to have stood.

If he placed his trust in her and she turned from him, died, or betrayed him accidentally… that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. This war was his primary focus and it was imperative it remain that way. Maybe if they won, and he survived, then they could talk about trust.

Hermione reached across the table following an awkward silence and plucked the note back up from where Severus had cast it aside. "Anyway," she continued. "They have invited us for dinner tonight. I would like to accept."

Severus thought about it. He wouldn't mind meeting them in order to ascertain that they were exactly who they claimed they were. For his own peace of mind and for the safety of his wife, Severus needed to confirm they had truly done her no harm and that they hadn't heard his outburst last night. "We can go."

The way she twisted in her chair to beam up at him made him glad he had agreed to the invitation, though he kept the real reason he was going along with it secret.

She tore a piece of paper from the back of her notebook and jotted a quick note in reply. Severus watched with amusement as she went to the window, clearly with the intention of calling for the owl - the owl which had scarpered immediately after dropping off the letters.

She turned back to him, biting her lower lip between two sets of pearly white teeth.

"I guess I will send this later." She mused. "Perhaps the receptionist will know which cottage they are staying in."

She picked up Dumbledore's letter once again and fidgeted with the corners of it.

"What did yours say?" She asked finally, working a finger underneath the edge of envelope but not yet breaking the seal. "Is he demanding we return to London or anything similar?"

"I think it would be best if you read it yourself." Severus moved his chair to sit more closely by her side, angled so that he could read over her shoulder.

She swallowed and tore the envelope open. Her letter was written in the same flowery script but was significantly longer and more wishy-washy, although it did contain the same message: an encouragement into bed and a little guilt-inducing niggle that they were doing it _for the Order_.

"I can't believe him!" Hermione jumped up from her chair and only quick evasive action on Severus' part saved his chin from colliding with the forceful witch. "How dare he! How very well dare he!" She paced across the length of the kitchen and Severus was impressed at the amount of ground she was able to cover so quickly in her anger. He did wish she would calm a little; the sparks from her hair seemed to threaten his holiday deposit.

"Hermione." He implored nervously, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss this at the table."

"How can he think this is a way to _thank_ people?" She muttered. Clearly she hadn't even heard him. "He just writes to us to order us into bed with one another like I'm a toy with no free will. I've given my entire life over to saving Harry's and he still… he still meddles with me. All the time!"

Severus shifted in his seat uncomfortably as her gaze snapped to him. "What did your letter say?"

"Much the same." Severus held his hands up to her, much as he would to an aggressive animal, in an attempt to ease her fury. "He wants us to consummate the marriage. He is afraid that if we don't it will harm Harry in some way, probably because they will need to hide you as well."

She threw her hands up in the air, crashing into one of the pans and pots that hung from the ceiling, the discordant sound echoing around the room. "Of course he brings Harry up in a letter where he wants us to get down and dirty. What better aphrodisiac," she sneered.

Suddenly the anger seemed to drain from Hermione and as her hands wrapped around her stomach, she deflated. Clearly, she had just realised exactly _who_ she would be having sex with tonight.

He didn't blame the woman.

"I just… I knew he was one-dimensional. I knew he had pinned the hopes of the entire world on Harry, and he's so bloody small-minded that he forgets we're people after a while. I knew that, I did." When she turned around Severus could see tears clinging to her chin. "I thought he would at least pretend to care about us. We're adults, we're both smart… we can figure out what we need to do without him breathing down our necks all the time. And now, during my first time, I'm going to be thinking about stupid Albus Dumbledore."

He stood up and walked to stand next to her. As he opened his arms to her, Severus could feel the fear radiating from her. She rushed into them, curling against his body like she belonged there, nestling her head into the crook of his neck. He enfolded her, feeling how she seemed to vibrate skittishly like a foal.

"I could _obliviate_ the letter from your mind." He offered gently. "I am fairly nifty with the spell, quite possibly the best in Europe."

She made a sound torn between an amused grunt and a sob and took two tiny steps closer so that her feet stood between his own. Her hair was a cloud that danced dangerously close to his face but it gave off a sweet smell of cocoa and honey that made him forget his half-eaten lunch and filled him with a hunger for much different things. As did the warmth of her body so close to his own.

Thankfully, before he was forced to push the wench away from him to hide his discomfort, a bell sounded in the other room. "Oh!" Hermione chirped. He felt the loss of her physically, like an ache, as she stepped away from him. "The potions are finished."

She swiped at her face in an effort to remove the evidence of tear tracks whilst Severus straightened his robe and marched across the room to the lab door.

"Esmeralda - that's the mediwitch who healed my ankle yesterday - said that this place used to be the sick bay for a muggle school." Hermione tailed off as she followed him through the doorway and down the stairs, picking up the thread once they were both inside the low room. "Buf it that was the case, why would this room be here?"

"The door has been charmed to be muggle-repellant and a _Notice-Me-Not_ placed on the handle while the lab has no windows, but a modest number of brewing spots and seems to have been dug out of the ground as if by magic, though not by force. Which leads us to the conclusion...?"

Hermione blinked. "That the school hired a witch or wizard at some point as a school nurse?"

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement, carefully stirring the potion which had been left to simmer five times in a clockwise motion while making note of the resulting reactions. He could feel there was something not quite optimised in the potion, the answer to a puzzle lying just out of reach. It had been frustrating him for weeks.

"Exactly." He affirmed. "Disappointed with their inability to heal the students by muggle methodologies, they turned back to magic."

"But why would they work at a muggle school?" She asked softly. "It seems an odd choice for someone born to it, to hide away from magic."

Severus took a moment to check on the other potions before replying. He stirred the first again three times anticlockwise, and once clockwise, as he spoke. "During the First War, while I was busy ingratiating myself into the Dark Lord's inner circle, the world grew more and more violent, especially for muggleborns and half-bloods. It was a dangerous time. In the year after I told the Dark Lord the prophecy, he grew increasingly... destructive. As his patience grew thin, the old way, political intrigues and the like, wouldn't suffice. He could no longer wait for power, he had to seize it. The solution was to sack, murder, and torture in a bit to discredit the Ministry, to show that only force was the solution."

Carefully bottling the mixture, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione had begun delicately crushing the dried mint they would use to bind the Burn Salve together.

"Many witches and wizards fled the magical world and found solace amongst the muggles. Even some of the old families, the Purebloods who can trace their lineage back to Merlin, learnt enough to blend in. It was one of the reasons Muggle Studies grew so popular for a while. If you could hide alongside the muggles, then perhaps the Dark Lord and his motley crew wouldn't find you."

He turned the cauldron to its side to allow for easier cleaning, his eyes sad and unfocused as his hands moved on autpilot. "And the year after his defeat, not all the Death Eaters were found. The Minister informed the public that it was safe to come back, but the first family that did, the Addletons… they were tortured until there was nothing left of them."

Severus forced himself back to the present, to the scrubbing of the cauldron and away from the multitude of people weighing down upon his soul. He had done so much damage.

Hermione brought the powdered mint to the uncorked flasks and placed a pinch of it into each bottle. He followed her as she worked, scrutinizing each bottle by smell and sight, pouring a little onto his fingers to test the consistency. The process of checking the other's work was one they had used all summer and it ensured that each potion was perfect.

It felt nice to work as a team.

"Are there still people hiding in the muggle world?"

"I have no idea, but given the state of current events, it is likely there will be more witches and wizards leaving our world for their own safety in the very near future."

Hermione nodded, aimlessly twirling a curl around a finger before she turned on her heel and marching up the stairs.

Severus, confused and tired, followed her.

As soon as they were back in the confines of the kitchen, Hermione pulled out a seat for herself and stared at him across the table, then sucked in a deep breath.

"How will they know if we fail to consummate the marriage?" She asked, her eyes hard.

"There are ministry employees whose job it is to verify marriage bonds." He replied, dropping into the chair opposite her. She was a smart witch, she could easily have worked that out on her own, which meant she was desperate to find a way out of their impending coupling.

Unfortunately, he doubted there was one.

"And of course, there is always good ol' Veritaserum. I can probably resist the effects of it, but we don't have time to train you to do the same."

Hermione shrugged, balancing her forehead on her fist. "I'm sorry." She offered across the table, although Severus had no idea for what she was apologising.

She barked out a laugh and lunged up and out of her chair, swinging around the table. Violently tugging out the chair that was next to his own, she slammed into it, sitting sideways so that she could study him.

He blinked down at her, confused, as she stared at him.

Then, very slowly, she leaned across and pressed the sweetest, most gentle kiss against his cheek that Severus had ever experienced, even in his dreams. She pulled away slowly from his sallow skin and he could feel the ghost of her lips against his cheek as though he were reliving the moment over and over again.

"Hermione." He whispered. As Severus turned to face her, his nose almost brushed hers, she was so close to him still.

And then Severus Snape lost control. Like a man possessed he leant forward and brushed her lips with his own. They were just as soft as they had been in the hallway the day before when he had pushed her away. It had taken all of his willpower to give up that pleasure then; now, now he had no self-control left.

She was his wife, he could kiss her, couldn't he?

He pulled away, trying to see if she was still comfortable with this, but her lips followed him.

The world seemed to fall into place.

Severus placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. He was breathing hard, as was she, her breasts rising and falling against the fabric of a small yellow top, the same one she'd worn the day he'd proposed. Her eyes stared into his deeply when he gained her face again and he licked his lips.

Then he stood, pulling her with him, turning to face her and… yes, those lips were perfection as he claimed them once more.

This kiss was not as unsure as their first three had been. Severus knew he was welcome, so he allowed his lips to move gently against hers, pressing small kisses to her as she murmured against him.

One of her hands brushed through his hair, scraping lightly against his scalp, and Severus purred like a cat as she did so. As a man possessed, he took hold of her hips and lifted her up, onto the kitchen table, so that those delightful lips would be at a more optimal level for him to explore.

He ran his thumbs along her jaw even as he buried the rest of his fingers in her hair, pulling her back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"Hermione," he said hoarsely. "If we don't stop, I'm not sure I…"

She laughed, a beautiful sound that echoed around the small room and made his heart stop beating for a few seconds.

"Severus Snape." She reached up to brush his lips again. "Take me to bed."

His hands tightened involuntarily as he clutched her against his chest, her head automatically resting against the curve of his neck as though it we made specifically for such a purpose.

The only potion now brewing in the laboratory was one that still needed to simmer for several hours. For once, Severus Snape was free to enjoy life.

Of course, it required him to pretend that this, too, was not a fabrication put on by the Order for the safety of the wizarding world.

His enthusiasm lessened at the thought that Hermione was probably acting, that none of this was real, but it faded to a background buzz as she pressed her body closer to his, nestling into his warmth.

He gingerly helped her off of the table so that she could stand once again on the floor and followed her nervously up the stairs to the bedroom. The bed was still made - when they had finally made it upstairs in the early hours of the morning, neither had had the energy to do more than fall straight onto it.

He turned to her, letting her take the lead.

She was darting glances between his form and the bed, her lower lip caught nervously between her teeth. He watched as she took a shuddering breath and steeled her shoulders.

He had managed to convince himself that she wouldn't go through with it before her hands settled on his shoulders and clumsily pushed the robe backwards so that it slithered down his back to pool on the floor.

Silently, she reached up to undo the top button of his shirt and Severus stole a kiss before she could. Once she saw what lay underneath, she might lose her nerve.

Then he danced his fingers along the line of buttons, until his shirt fell open. Hermione gasped and flicked her tongue across her lips, which were curved in a slight smile. "I never would have imagined that we'd be here. At the beginning of summer, when we started working together, I wouldn't have…"

He winced as she trailed off. Of course she wouldn't have imagined touching the greasy Potions master. He was hardly a sight students would swoon over - _thank Merlin_ \- and he had little in his character to draw someone as bright and loyal to him otherwise.

As her fingertips hovered over his shirt, he captured them and brought them to his lips, pressing his lips against each of her fingertips. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He whispered, squeezing her fingers gently. "It's alright if you need a little time to prepare."

Hermione smiled up at him shyly and nodded, her lip still caught between her teeth. "I am sure." She slid her hands beneath his shirt and pulling it open.

"Oh." She exclaimed as his body was revealed to her. "What happened?"

Her fingers traced the gentle curve of his waist, bypassing all the ugly, ropey scars that marked him.

He couldn't help it, his tone grew sharp in defence. "A war." Her eyes flickered up at him and then back down to the mess of skin and scars scattered across his chest and abdomen. "I can hide them, if you want. A little glamour."

Had he had more time to prepare for this he would already have cast it and she would not have been faced with _this_.

Her searching fingertips moved inwards, chasing each other across the ridges in his skin, causing his breath to flutter.

"Hermione." He moaned, not knowing whether it was a plea or despair.

"What caused this one?" She asked, tapping against the claw marks in his shoulder.

Severus smiled as he shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall on top of his robe. It was one of his more heroic scars. "Greyback and I were flying when we came across a small car stopped by the side of the road. There was a woman and child. He wanted them to run so that he could "enjoy the thrill of the chase", as he put it. I fought him and won, but he managed to slice through my robe and into my skin. Thankfully, the woman and child were gone by the time the fight was over."

Her fingers traced the wound again before moving down to his stomach, whispering over his largest, ugliest scar. Severus shook his hair out to cover his face as she tapped against it with the pad of one finger.

"That one is not a good story, Hermione." He warned.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to… but I do want to know." Her words rang full of sincerity and Severus hesitated for only a few moments. Of course his little know-it-all wanted to know.

"A few months after I brought the prophecy to him, I begged the Dark Lord to spare Lily. He was not amused by my plea to save a muggleborn. He said he had always wanted to know if a wizard could survive disemboweling, and that I was apparently volunteering." Severus turned white. "Bellatrix was slipping even then. She's never been perfectly sane, but…" He sliced down through the air, dismissing that train of thought. "She wanted to do it without magic… so they took me apart."

Her eyes were wide pools of shock. "And you survived?"

"They put me back together once the joke grew old, maybe twenty minutes later." He shrugged, refusing to dwell on how hopeless he had felt at the time or how much apathy he had felt regarding whether or not he lived or died. "I had little choice in the matter. I was still useful."

She drew her fingers back and pressed them to her lips, still scanning Severus' chest with her eyes. "How many of these are _his_ work?"

Severus swallowed. "This one was an accident." He indicated towards a blotchy patch of rough skin near his heart. "A cauldron exploded. And of course, I have one on my leg that was all Hagrid and his feral, three-headed dog."

Hermione's eyes didn't change and Severus cursed himself silently. He should learn to watch his tongue around this quiet witch, always brimming with questions.

"Severus," her voice wavered. "I won't let him hurt you again."

He felt the air around them prickle against his skin and he pressed his thumb to her lips, stemming the words he knew would follow. "Do not finish that thought, Mrs. Snape, or else we are both damned. I will not have you bind yourself in a vow to keep me safe, not when my role requires me to throw myself into danger with some regularity. You know as well as I do that you cannot protect me when he calls."

As she peered up at him and nodded, he slowly removed his hand, revelling in the silky feel of her lips against his skin. Sighing, he scooped up his shirt and shoved an arm into it, though a touch on his arm pulled him up short.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "I thought we were… you know." She toed the bed with her foot and he sighed again. The shirt hung uselessly from his arm.

"I imagine you need some time to come to terms with all of… this." He gestured to himself with a wave of his hand.

Hermione shook her head, setting her riotous curls to bouncing. "You are a brave man." She stated. "It doesn't change anything, I knew that already. But…" Her voice trailed off. "If you think scars are unattractive, then I have to tell you that I am not without them."

Severus' tongue was suddenly thick in his mouth. "Show me." He whispered hoarsely.

She shifted back, pulling her little yellow top over her head in one solid, flowing motion. The _Notice-Me-Not_ which had been woven into the neckline of the shirt shimmered as it released, revealing a thick scar. It ripped from the bottom of her throat down to her stomach in one solid line, interrupted only by the fabric of her bra.

Just as she had done to his, he pressed his fingers against her scar. "Potter was right, you did almost die."

She laughed, a sad, brittle sound. "I know that." Her voice lowered. "If you want me to cover it, teach me the glamour. I don't mind. A lot of my tops have a...charm to hide it. It didn't cost much and it meant I could..."

"No." He interrupted. Her eyes locked on his.

Her vulnerability made him brave. "Hermione, didn't you hear me before?" Severus ensured her attention as he gazed into her stunning hazel eyes for just a moment before continuing."Of all of the people and all of the things I have ever set my eyes upon, you are the most beautiful by far. I'll not be having magic hide any part of you from me."

She gasped as he captured her lips in a kiss, though it quickly melted into a quiet moan as he pulled back and reverently pressed his lips to the collar of her throat, at the point where her scar began.

"Hermione." He whispered against her skin. "I didn't prepare. We should stop." He kissed her in between each word, unable to stop himself. "I can brew a contraceptive this afternoon."

"No." She breathed as she wound her hands through his hair. "I have an implant. Muggle birth control."

He smiled, his relief a palpable thing as it washed through his muscles as he realized this wasn't just a necessity ordered by Albus to protect his precious Potter. His witch had been prepared even before the letter was delivered this morning. Somewhere in his neck, a knot released and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Severus feathered a kiss against Hermione's collarbone and fell to the task of worshipping his wife.


	15. Chapter 15: Newsworthy

**AN:** Not mine, no money.

Merry Christmas, my dear readers!

My present to you is this: I've finished The Chit! It hasn't been beta'd yet, I only finished it two days ago, but I hope that will mean y'all can enjoy this chapter without wondering whether or not it the story will be left incomplete. *Does crazy dance around the kitchen*

Thanks go, as always, to my wonderful beta LumosLyra, without whom little of this would make sense and every sentence would contain the word "said".

* * *

"Dear, will you pass the wine?" Esma flashed a grin at Nicholas, her fingers spinning the empty wine glass around. "We're a little parched this end of the table."

Nicholas chortled and slid the bottle down the polished wood towards her. It was clear they weren't strong drinkers - either that or they had already downed a bottle before Severus and Hermione arrived on their doorstep. There was a rose flush to Esma's face, but Nicholas' was thoroughly red, with prominent blood vessels lining his nose and cheeks.

"Well I'm glad our children have flown the nest already." Nicholas picked up the conversation again, turning back to Severus. "I don't know what I'd do if they were in danger of being married off under this new law." He tapped the table with his fist as he spoke. "Luckily, Rachel is in Greece doing volunteer work with refugee witches and Thomas is happily married already."

"I wish you'd call him Gust," Esma sighed. "I think that's why he didn't come around for Christmas last year."

"I'm not calling him Gust." Nicholas folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Just because his sister got to pick her own name, doesn't mean that he can go about naming himself after everything he sees. If we give in, next time he comes home he'll be Blade, or Stream, or Trash Can!"

Esma rolled her eyes and speared a potato with her fork. "If it makes him happy, dear…"

"And he didn't come home for Christmas because he spent the Christmas before with us. Björn's family need to see them both too. You know both boys adore you."

In the silence which followed, Hermione glanced over at Severus. He was sitting stiffly across from her, his arms folded across his chest and his face stern as he glared at the tablecloth.

"Speaking of the marriage law, I think one of my friends is trying to get pregnant." Hermione said, attempting to relieve the awkward silence. "Not that they are ready for a baby, I mean they have hardly dated, but he's a half-blood so.."

She tailed off at Severus' shrewd look.

"Oh, really?" Nick asked. "I wondered if people might get that desperate. I've half a mind to petition for the statistics in a few years, see how many people emigrated, how many gave birth 9 months later... Would be very interesting."

"Interesting, dear." Esma sighed. "But also heartbreaking. These young people are so reckless. They don't understand what taking care of a baby is like, they just see a possible solution and leap on it. I've seen the effects of such reckless decision-making first-hand, and whilst it can end well, of course, it can be very difficult for the mother and father to cope in the first few years."

Hermione's tongue darted out to swipe across her lower lip. "I think the grandmother will be more than happy to have the chance to care for another child." She said softly. "But I agree that it's reckless. I can understand how hard the choice is, though… if you're going to be forced to marry, it makes it easier to think you can control who it is will be waiting for you down the aisle. And if getting pregnant with someone means you'll be allowed to marry him..."

Severus' eyes narrowed and Hermione smiled back at him. He'd been her choice, after all. 'Ginerva?' he mouthed.

When Hermione hesitated, he scowled furiously.

"More beef, anyone?" Nicholas stood up to offer the plate to his guests.

"Ah, no, thank you. I'm quite full." Hermione tilted her head questioningly at her husband, who shook his head sharply.

"Ah well, that's our lunch decided for the week. Love a good beef sarnie." Nick grinned and smacked a hand against his belly. "Now let's get this table cleared for the dessert."

As Emsa rolled her eyes at her husband, a dull thud drew Hermione's attention to the window.

"Oh, the Prophet's here." Nicholas waved his wand towards the window to unlatch it, and continued piling up the plates in his arms. A newspaper flew through the window and landed on the floor beneath the sill.

Severus frowned. "Bit late in the day, isn't it? To get the paper?"

"Oh, no, dear." Esma sipped at her wine again. "This is tomorrow's edition."

The woman continued talking but Hermione's attention was caught by the sight of a familiar nose on the front page, snarling with disdain. It was folded in such a way that the nose and a few lines of text were the only things she could see and yet she knew, to the bottom of her heart, exactly who was on the front page. A frisson of foreboding ran through her, turning her blood to ice in her veins.

"Given Nicholas' business interests we thought it was prudent to have a pre-print edition sent."

"Can I… Can I read it?" Hermione asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the page.

"Of course. Just be aware that there will be bits missing - images, even whole articles sometimes. It'll just say 'draft' in those instances, but usually it's enough to get a feel for what they'll be talking about."

"Aha." Hermione stood, drawn to the newspaper like a magnet. Her fingers shook as she unravelled the page, turning away from the group so that nobody else would see it over her shoulder.

Her fears were realised.

" **Hogwarts' Pervert Potions Professor - Saint or Sinner?"**

The headline was bold across the top of the page. Picture-Severus snarled up at her from a photograph in which the grass in the background was the only thing to prove that the picture was not a black-and-white photograph.

The subtitle read **"Scandal at School as Potions Master revealed as Death Eater: but Is He A Spy?"**

Her mouth fell open.

"I hope you two like fruit salad." Nicholas called cheerfully as he came into the room. "I didn't have time to bake anything, not with the weather like this, but my fruit salad is to die for."

"Yes, that would be lovely." Severus agreed , clearing his throat. Hermione thought she could detect a hint of worry in his tone as though he knew something were wrong.

The world tilted. She carefully rolled the paper the other way, so that the front page couldn't be seen, and clutched it to her chest. Then, her heart heavy, she returned to the table as though it were a gallows.

Severus was staring at her again from across the table.

"Are you alright, dear? You've gone as white as a ghost!" The ladle in Esmeralda's hand hovered over the fruit salad bowl as she waited for a response.

Hermione coughed to clear her throat. "No." She finally replied flatly. "Do you mind if I borrow the paper? The frontpage is actually about me."

"Oh." Esmeralda shared a glance with Nicholas, an exchange which was both silent and fluid. "Yes of course. You go ahead."

Hermione rose. "I'm terribly sorry, but I think I'm going to have to go back to the cottage."

"Of course, of course. You two go on home. I hope whatever they've written will all blow over." Nicholas' eyes shone with curiosity but he graciously refrained from asking. Hermione's relief was palpable. She wasn't quite sure what she would say if they asked.

They hurried back across the green and the moment they closed the door of their own cottage, Severus had his wand in-hand, casting several of the privacy charms she recalled from their journey on the train. The strength of them made Hermione's eyes water but she didn't complain.

Without speaking, he plucked the paper out of the crook of her elbow where it nestled. "No, wait." With a flutter of paper he shook it open and…

"Ah." He scanned the page quickly and efficiently, his hands stretching it flat. "This is not good."

Hermione peered around his shoulder to read the article.

 **Page 3 to find out if your child has been terrorised by this Dark Arts Proficient.**

 **Page 4 to discover Severus' pining love for Lily Potter, mother of the Boy-Who-Lived!**

 **Page 7 for a full account of known Death Eaters.**

 **Page 9 for an exposé on Hermione Granger, Snape's recent student and now ... his bride!**

"She wasn't at the wedding." Hermione twisted a lock of her hair around her finger until the finger was white. "I know she wasn't. She might have pulled our marriage certificate out of the Ministry records, I suppose."

"Or one of the guests tipped her off." He muttered darkly.

"Who would…" Her voice trailed off as he turned with a flurry of his robes and stalked down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. "Severus?"

He spread the newspaper across the kitchen table, his eyes still reading the front page as his hands tore out pages of the newspaper, laying the opinion articles side by side on the table.

Then, as he read through the article speculating on his affections for Harry's mother, Severus tapped his finger against Lily's name. Hermione felt a lurch in her heart at the claim that Severus loved Lily - and took a deep, steadying breath. He had said they were best friends, nothing more. Perhaps the papers were wrong - it wouldn't be the first time.

"They may have lost us the war." In the space of a breath, the Severus she'd grown accustomed to working with over the summer had vanished. In his place stood a shimmering marble statue, eyes glittering with malice. "I will find out who it was," each word seemed to be spat out like venom, "I will find out what they know, and I will show them fear."

Hermione's heart stopped.

Then with a growl that seemed to vibrate through his entire body, Severus grabbed the nearest plate and flung it, full force, into the wall.

She blinked at him owlishly and felt his _power_ prickle against her skin. It felt like treacle, dark and seductive and lethargic. The hairs on her arms rose up.

"Severus?" She asked, forcing herself to be brave.

The force of his glare had her stumbling backwards, heart thumping in her chest. Fear flooded her as his magic pushed up against hers, smothering her.

Just as suddenly as _her_ Severus had disappeared he was back, crumpling to the floor in a pool of black robes.

"Severus!" She exclaimed, rushing to him from where she had been backed against a wall.

Strands of his hair were wrapped around his hands as he bellowed, like a beast in pain.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, wanting nothing more than to sweep him up into her arms, but she couldn't forget the fear she'd felt as the presence of his power washed over her like a great force after he shattered the dish against the wall. Choosing to ignore the cold of the floor against her knees, Hermione simply knelt by his side, unsure of what to do and knowing there was nothing she could say.

After what felt like an eternity of tense, thick silence, Hermione shifted to sit properly, brushing against his robe as she did so. Severus' face emerged like a pale moon against a black sky.

"Everything I ever did," he said, his voice empty. "All of the sacrifices I made. All of the horrible things… It was all for nothing. We will lose."

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry." She repeated. "This is my fault. If you hadn't married me…"

His hand sliced the air in a familiar gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to reply. Hermione was surprised to see a tear ghosting the lashes of one eye as he stared at her.

His head bowed suddenly and he clutched at his left forearm with long fingers. Hermione's eyes widened as he moved to stand up, realising what had caused his reaction.

"Severus, you can't go. He knows, he must know."

Severus sighed, a small, tight sound unlike his usual annoyance. "I agree with your suspicions. He probably does know. He has had a supporter working on the printing press for many years. But I _must_ go."

"You can't." She pleaded, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. "They will kill you. You know it."

His patient, onyx eyes stared back at her without a hint of emotion. "They may." He agreed, his voice tight with pain. "But perhaps that will serve as distraction enough for Lucius to rescue Draco."

"No." She shook her head, feeling the hair clips keeping her hair in place giving up the fight as her curls sprang loose. "Severus, you can't. I'm begging you."

He hissed, his hand flexing. "And if he doesn't know?" He asked between clenched teeth. "And tonight was the night I would have learnt what his plans are?"

Hermione gripped his shoulders, rising up onto her feet to reach them. "We'll find another way to win." She said, her voice low and urgent. "We will. Please."

The words sapped his will and he slid back down to the floor, pulling her with him. She landed, pressed into his side in a half-embrace, as his arm clung to her.

He arched his back, clenching and relaxing his left fist as though trying to work through the pain.

"If you will have me stay here," he grunted through clenched teeth, "then for the love of God, distract me."

Something clicked inside Hermione's brain.

"That's it!"

She worked to free herself, leaping up from where Severus was sat on the floor and scampered over to sit at the table.. She pulled her notebook across the wood and opened it to a page at the back, furiously scribbling almost before the quill hit the parchment.

"What's it, you insane woman?" Severus muttered, pulling himself into a chair and staring at her with a sullen expression. Every muscle in his body was pulled taunt.

"Distraction. What has Albus been working on for the last month?"

"Finding Potter a bride, you know that as well as I do."

"And just as the Order came up with a plan, what happened?"

Severus' eyes widened as he saw the outline of her thoughts. "I was ordered to marry you."

"Why would the Dark Lord give everyone two months to find spouses? If he wanted us to be forced to marry purebloods - perhaps so that he could control us - he would have had the law trigger in a day, have arranged engagements for all those unattached. This is the Wizarding world, people would have grumbled but not-"

She stopped talking when Severus' face turned white as he gripped the table, another wave of pain bubbling through him.

"He was distracting the Order." Severus growled.

"Exactly. None of this matters. He didn't really want us to marry purebloods, that's never made sense to me. He wanted us so afraid of being forced to marry a Death Eater that we'd spend the next month scrambling about trying to organise a resistance that didn't steal away people's free will but still kept them safe. He must have known Dumbledore couldn't really force people to marry, not if he wanted to keep them on his side."

Suddenly, the tension filling Severus flowed away and he slumped forward. Hermione reacted instantly, her ink-stained hand reaching out between his head and the table to soften the fall. He caught himself a hair's width from her hand and pressed the softest kiss against it. Hermione's heart wrenched.

"We should tell Dumbledore and Minerva about this immediately," Hermione whispered. "We need to start planning for the war."

"Knowing the Dark Lord," Severus said quietly, "The attack will fall the week prior to or following the deadline."

"Why after?" She asked, her eyes not leaving his as she waved a hand, sending the parchment into the air to dry the ink on her hastily scribbled words.

"What better time to attack than when your opponent knows he has lost his edge?" Severus' fingers fluttered over the skull and snake brand on his inner arm, massaging the flesh, gently.. "Fuck, I need to get this thing off me if we're going to defy him like this."

"I didn't know it would hurt so much."

He blinked away her caring gaze. "It doesn't hurt that much." He dismissed. "This is just his impatient summoning technique, I've felt it enough through the years."

Hermione's teeth gripped her lip painfully but she nodded. Now wasn't the time for pity; it was never the time for pity with this stoic man, but she couldn't help it. Her heart went out to him.

"It gets worse?" She asked quietly.

He nodded, his eyes pinched. "There are limits to what he can do with such a brand." He said, patiently explaining. "He cannot cast spells on me or force me to do whatever he so wishes. But what he can do is demand I come to him, over and over again, enforcing his will on mine."

"Is it as bad as _Crucio_?" She could feel her eyes were too wide, that she must look like a stupid, gormless twit, but Severus answered her all the same.

"No," he chuckled. "Not quite as bad as that."

He bared his teeth as another demand raced through his arm and Hermione grabbed his hand in hers once more. "Maybe it will help to squeeze my hand?" She offered. "My mum always let me do that when my dad was inspecting my teeth. Don't tell anyone, but I'm actually a little afraid of dentists."

He glared at her, but as he opened his mouth - she was sure to retort that he needed no such comfort - another wave hit him. He gripped her hand hard between his fingers and she felt how much it was costing him to resist the summons. It felt like a scream across her skin, chasing across her shoulders and dripping down her spine. ' _Come to me._ '

She shivered.

He released her as soon as his muscles would allow and she massaged her fingers tenderly, the newspaper crinkling as she drew her arm back across the table.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"No, I'm fine." She tried to smile reassuringly, but the corners of her mouth would do no more than twitch. "Honestly, if it helped you even a little it was worth it."

He shook his head sharply.

She cast about for a distraction.

"Here, read this." She shoved the letter she'd written under his nose. He scowled and drew back from the table until he was sitting straight against the back of his chair once again. The movement stretched her arm across the table but she was too content that he hadn't let go of her hand to worry about how uncomfortable the position was. His thumb caressed the pattern of her life-line as he read.

"It seems fine." He said drily, pushing it across the table. "Why are you writing all of this down when we are returning to London straight away? We can tell Albus ourselves as soon as I can travel."

"Do you know when that will be?"

Hermione shivered, feeling the weight of his despair wash over her again as he fixed his gaze on her, his black eyes empty. There was a part of him that felt he deserved to be in this pain. It was so palpable she could almost feel it. He closed his eyes for a second and with a shake of his head, he opened them again.

"Right, so, no flying, no Apparating. I can't fly, and if I Side-Along you in this state we'll both get splinched. I wish the cottage was on the Floo network, but as it isn't, so a letter will have to do for now."

"Apparate there by yourself." Snape growled.

"No!"

Almost as soon as the word left her mouth, her brain kicked into gear. Hermione tapped against the table with her nails as she thought about it. Although her initial reaction had been to ensure Severus' safety and remain with him until the pain passed, the outcome of an entire war was riding on their news. She needed to tell Dumbledore as soon as possible so that he and Harry could start preparing. The parchment rustled as she gripped it tightly.

"Alright, I will Apparate to Grimmauld." She agreed, though her tongue felt thick against the roof of her mouth It felt like the wrong choice even as she said it, but she knew it was the practical one.

Had she not been watching him closely, she would have missed the expression that flitted across his face. The expression, a horrific blend of abandonment, fear, and loneliness, had only appeared for a second, but the strength of it left her breathless.

"I'm coming back straight away." She promised, casting a Notice-Me-Not on the letter and folding it neatly into a pocket. "Will you be safe here until then? Do they know where we are?"

Once again, in a gesture that was becoming increasingly common, Severus waved his hand dismissively through the air. She felt she knew him well enough now that she understood the subtleties underlying the seemingly common gesture. He was telling her to leave, that he was able to to take care of himself in her absence.

Impulsively, Hermione pressed a kiss against the top of his head before she left. "Be careful." She whispered against his lank, black hair. Then she set her shoulders and marched out of the cottage, her heart nearly breaking with the effort of leaving him there.


	16. Chapter 16: Allies

Severus stared at the kitchen door for longer than he would have wanted to admit as wave after wave of the Dark Lord's impatient summons left him sliding from his chair and gasping on the floor. The dark brown door stubbornly remained closed.

He wanted so desperately to believe that she was coming back, but he knew she wasn't. She may have the best intentions in the world - even he could see how honest she was - but as soon as she was back at Grimmauld Place Albus would put her to work securing their victory.

A spy without anonymity was worthless. He was worth nothing. She shouldn't come back. It was better not to mire himself in false hope that she would once again stroll through the door.

A low moan started in his chest, and grew to fill the room. He refused to allow himself to dwell on whether it was the incessant summons that ripped through him or the loss of Hermione. It felt as though his arm was on fire, melting beneath the attentions of his Lord. He almost hoped that Death Eater's would find him but if they did, and if Hermione did return, she would be in danger...

He managed to cast three sets of additional wards, one at the grass, one at the bricks and one on the kitchen door, before he was interrupted again by another wave of agony. The Dark Lord knew about the front-page. He must know. Severus hadn't endured this much pain over a missing meeting in years. The Dark Lord wanted Severus to account for his crimes and beg for his life, put on a show for the other Death Eaters. Severus was unpopular enough to know that nobody would step in; even Lucius would not, could not help him now.

His body heaved and with a groan, Severus pulled himself to his feet. Now that he was certain Hermione was gone, he could answer that summons. He could do his duty and fulfill his promise to Lily and Albus that he would not rest until the world was safe from the lunatic he had created.

But knowing the chit she would come after him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and yanked at it again, finding the gesture comforting.

With one last, lingering summon, the pain stopped.

Severus could still feel the itch across his skin, calling him, but the Dark Lord must have other things to focus on than the errant spy. No doubt he was ordering his army of Death Eaters out to find Severus, find and maim, but not-quite-kill.

The Dark Lord had a vindictive streak. He didn't hesitate to inflict abhorrent things upon those who turned on him - much worse than he inflicted upon those who had never rallied to his cause. If the report had mentioned Lily then it would likely make clear as to how far back his deception began, should the claim be believed.

He turned back to the paper, resting his weight on the table to keep himself upright, and re-read the article.

It was typical Skeeter drivel - he had been completely besotted by Lily for all these years, he was somehow both a villain and a hero, he'd been teaching children dark magic for years while the Headmaster twinkled nearby… With a scoff he pushed it off the end of the table and watched it cascade to the floor page by page.

There was an alarm from his wards at the boundary of their cottage.

Pain shot through Severus' body, traveling up his spine and out towards his extremities on raw nerves, as he leaped into a duelling stance. His wand steady before him, he advanced down the long corridor to the front door.

He had keyed his wards to the brick, mortar and wood boundary of the cottage, and Hermione had locked it as she left, so whoever stood on the other side of the door would have a hard time breaking in; but if they had found him already, he would need to move - and move fast.

Silently, he cast _facti iaspis_ at the door, allowing him to see through the wooden panels without alerting those on the other side. It was Esmeralda, clutching something as she walked up their small gravel path.

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. While he had picked up no malintent over their meal, he knew that didn't mean anything. Even the most clever Legilimens could be fooled easily by a proficident Occlumens. He'd been doing the same to both his owners for years.

But… _but_. There was that word again. He was getting soft.

If she didn't receive a reply to her knock, especially after Hermione's obvious distress, would she call the Ministry? Because if the couple even hinted that they knew where Severus Snape had been only hours ago, he was a dead man.

Wearily, he rested his forehead on the lounge's wooden doorframe. He should leave - go to one of his safe houses and not look back. It was perhaps the coward's way out, but he would be safe and Hermione would be able to focus on the war and forget about her husband. Was that not the best of both worlds?

The remembrance of her lips against his gave him pause. No doubt the witch would worry about him, make efforts to find him. She was disturbingly loyal and naive, and he couldn't deny her bravery.

There was a knock at the front door, ripping him from his thoughts.

"Are you sure they're in?" Nicholas came into view, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

"Their wards are up. I could feel them like cobwebs against my skin as I walked."

 _Dammit._ Severus dismantled all the wards with a wave of his hand and opened the door, his wand hidden in the folds of his robe.

"What a… pleasure to see you both again." He greeted, sardonically.

"Severus!" Nick clapped him on the shoulder. "We were both so worried about Hermione after your sudden departure that we thought we'd come by and check on her."

"How very nice of you." Severus said through gritted teeth. This was why he didn't have friends - there was nobody to meddle in his business all the time.

"Yes, well. Can I speak with her?" Esma asked, her hands gripping her elbows.

"I'm afraid she had to apparate back to London." Severus could feel a tension headache coming on. "I'll let her know you _popped by_."

He moved to close the door but Nick's hand braced it.

"Just a sec there, old chap. Can we have the paper back?"

"I… I'm afraid she took it with her."

Nick narrowed his eyes and for the first time since Severus met him, his ruddy cheeks no longer sported a wide grin. "I can see it, lad." He nodded his head down the corridor toward the kitchen,and Severus turned his head slightly. Severus caught himself before he fully turned, cursing. There was no way Nick could see through Severus, down the long corridor and spot a newspaper on the floor by candlelight.

"A copy of the _Prophet_ from yesterday." The lie trickled out easily enough.

"Like hell it is. I saw the way you reacted. I'm not an idiot. What the hell is on that front page?"

" _Accio paper._ " Esma cast, and Severus' grip around the slender wood of his wand tightened as the pages cascaded down the hallway, fluttering over his head into their hands. He wanted to blast every page into ash, evict the couple from his doorstep and Apparate away himself, but… Soft. He snarled at himself.

There was a moment of silence whilst Severus debated whether it worth forcibly evicting them from the cottage now, before they became murderous, or enduring their derision while they duelled. Unfortunately, while he debated the point, another summons rippled through his body and his back bowed with the pain of it. He kept himself upright with effort, unwilling to let them see how much he suffered.

"Merlin." Esma said, letting go of the front page as her husband took over. "It wasn't about her at all."

Severus managed a grunt.

"So you're one of those Death Eaters, are you?" Nick's voice had turned to ice. Severus swallowed, forcing his body to react to the threat despite the pain tearing its way through his nerve endings. He swung back into the dueling stance, forcibly straightening his spine. "Or is true what they write, that you're a spy?"

Esmeralda's pale hand rested on Nick's shoulder as the two wizards squared off against one another.

"Where is Hermione?" Esma demanded. "Is she safe?"

"She went back to London." Severus replied through gritted teeth. "She had to do damage control on _that_." He indicated to the newspaper still curled in Nick's hand with a graceful fall of his fingers.

"Did she know?" The mediwitch interrogated.

"Of course she bloody well knew." The fight sapped out of Severus as the pain throbbed, and he had to lean against the wall to keep his balance. "I'm sorry, I really can't talk to you about this."

The two sides stood there silently, studying each other. Then, Nicholas put his wand away.

"I don't believe a real Death Eater would marry a muggle-born." He said slowly. "At least, not willingly. Not when you look at her the way you do."

"What in the devil's name does that mean? Put your wand back up, man. How foolish are you?" Severus snarled. "I could disembowel you before you even thought about drawing it again."

"You probably could have done that before you even opened the door." Nicholas countered, disobeying the command.

Severus closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, finally allowing himself to pinch the bridge of his nose. His wand stayed heavy in his hand.

"So let's suppose you're on the good side." Esma picked up where her husband had left off. "And Hermione is back in London with her rebel group, controlling whatever situation that newspaper article will cause."

Severus nodded for her to continue.

"How can we help?"

These people were far too gullible. Had Severus been a true Death Eater, the pair of them would've just signed their own death warrants for being blood traitors. He should take them before the Dark Lord as a gift while he begged forgiveness for being found out.

And yet, here they were, handing themselves to him on a silver platter. What the bloody hell was it about being married to that Gryffindor chit that left him with a neon sign above his head proclaiming him a hero? It was preferable when he'd been the dreaded bat of the dungeon for years and people had damned well left him alone.

He groaned. "Come in." He ordered, stepping away from the doorway. "Gods forbid anyone hears any more of our conversation."

They trooped in, past him and towards the kitchen. He reset the wards and followed cautiously, unsure as to whether or not another attack was going to strike mid-stride and bring him to his knees.

Once they were all sat around the table, he allowed himself to finally put away his wand, sliding it seamlessly into a specially designed pocket in his sleeve.

"So you want to help the Order?" He asked, allowing himself to dip into their thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, they were worried. Apprehension about what this move would mean for their children and their business lingered at the forefront of their minds, though Esma was also worried about her research and whether it would turn them into targets. Underneath all of that fear, both of them were strong-willed and entirely sure they were doing the right thing. Their conviction was admirable.

He sighed with relief, feeling muscles he hadn't even known were tense relax.

"I'm not sure what we need," he admitted. "I'm not even sure who our recruitment liaison is, but I will find out and put you in touch."

"No." Esma said, shaking her head. "I don't trust anyone else."

"Really?" Severus' eyebrow raised.

"Someone close to you leaked this story." Esma tapped at the rolled up paper with one fingernail. "If they know you're a spy, they are probably also close to this Order of yours. Since Hermione seemed distraught, it can't have been her - and I like to think that if you'd done it you'd at least be content, if not pleased."

Severus grimaced. She was right. Sharp like Hermione.

"Alright." He agreed.

There was a crash as the front door opened and Severus felt the fresh wards accept the newcomer. It must be Hermione. The turmoil he had felt earlier when he was all but certain she wouldn't return eased with her arrival.

"Why the bloody hell this place isn't on the Floo-" Hermione complained as she walked towards the kitchen. "Oh, hello."

Her eyes flitted to the newspaper, rolled neatly on the table, and she drew her wand. Severus felt his chest swell with pride at her untrusting behaviour, his heart warming at the sight of her face.

He truly hadn't thought she would come back.

His mouth puckered with worry as he took in the sight of her in the flickering firelight - she looked grey and pale. It was late now, gone midnight, and she was obviously pushing herself too hard.

"Had you told us you were going, you could have used our fireplace. We're hooked up." Esma replied, breezing her hand in the air.

"I thought none of the cottages here were on the network?" Severus' brow creased. "It was one of their major selling points."

Something about his tone seemed to soothe his wife and slowly her wand lowered.

Esma smiled modestly. "Well, technically our cottage isn't owned by the company that runs the rest of the development. We bought it two years ago." She glanced up and then back down to her hands. "I got so tired of lugging everything with us, whenever we would spend a few months here. So, Nicholas bought it for me as an anniversary gift."

"Just how wealthy are you?" Hermione asked suddenly and without thought. The thought of being able to buy a cottage on a whim was staggering for her. Severus winced at the rudeness of the question - no Slytherin would ever have been so forthright, no pureblood so daring - but Nicholas laughed.

"You get used to it, Severus. My daughter is a Gryffindor through and through, has been since she was a wee lad." He patted his belly and leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And how did you know I was not one as well?"

Nick snorted. "Our twins learnt potions under you. I think they caused quite the stir at the time, one twin in Gryffindor and the other in Slytherin."

Severus frowned. The only incidents he could call to mind were of identical twins being separated by houses - the few sets of fraternal twins who happened to be separated didn't cause so much of a stir. There had been relatively few sets of twins separated into Gryffindor and Slytherin, making them quite the odd pair. Hadn't their son been called Thomas?

His mind snapped around the puzzle. "Thomas and… Cyril?" He asked.

"Yes!" Nick clapped his hands excitedly. "Although Cyril is called Rachel now." There was a steely glint in his eyes as he stared down the Potioneer, daring Severus to question it.

"We were always getting letters from the two of them about you." Esma cut in. "Rachel loved how fierce you were-"

"She did?" Severus blinked.

Undeterred, Esma continued. "And Thomas always said your class was the most interesting one he'd taken. Anybody could wave their wand and have a few sparks come out of the other end, but only your class ever taught anything useful to the younger years. He was quite starstruck at having you as his Head of House."

Severus turned the words in his mind. To hear that not every single one of his students had despised him was a comforting thought… of course, the woman could be lying. He was tempted, as he always was, to cast _Legilimens_ again. But, much like Dreamless Sleep, he knew it was an addiction he should not court.

Still, the words of praise settled warmly about his heart.

Nick turned back to Hermione. "To answer your question, we own Flourish & Blotts and a few shares in Gringotts. We also own several other properties on Diagon Alley, which is where most of our income comes from."

Hermione's mouth fell open while her already owlish eyes grew even larger. "You _own_ Flourish & Blotts?" She asked, her voice hushed reverently.

Severus snorted. She was so wonderfully bookish.

"Yes. How else would we know Rupert needed somebody to have a quick read of his book pre-publication?"

"Well," Severus cleared his throat lightly. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Order needs resources and political clout. Perhaps that's the best way to help us without being too obvious about it."

"Oh, I like that." Esma chirped.

Nicholas pouted. "I'm not so sure. I think I'd rather be on the frontline. Not that I won't donate, I will, but I also want to do something, you know? Not just feel like somebody's wallet."

"Well, we'll let you know if we think of anything." Severus stood and drew himself up to his full height, staring down at the pair. "For now, Madame Snape and myself have had a tiring day and would like to retire."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Esma leaped up, brushing the wrinkles from her linen trousers. "Terribly sorry for dropping by unannounced." He didn't miss the way she squeezed Hermione's arm as they passed, making deep eye contact.

He should probably have been insulted at the clear 'are you ok' gesture from the older witch, but instead his eyes softened. He was glad Hermione had an adult friend who cared for her.

After their guests had left and as he double-checked the wards once again, he allowed himself to relax.

"You were busy." Hermione's lips curled into that easy smile Severus enjoyed, but her eyes betrayed her stress. "I was only gone an hour and you've recruited two new members. Perhaps we ought to have revealed your true purpose years ago."

"Very droll." He said, leaning back. "I think they're here for you far more than they are for me."

She crossed to the kettle, filling it with water and setting it to boil. He could tell there was something wrong as he watched the witch staring at the kettle, tapping her fingers against the countertop and staring into space.

"Severus." She began, as she poured the water over her tea bags. "Are you still in love with Lily?"

 _That_ hadn't been what he'd expected to hear from her. Shouldn't she be briefing him on whether or not his duties as an Order Member were finally complete?

She didn't turn around.

"No, of course not. As I said before, she was my childhood best friend. I care for her - cared for her - very deeply. She was the only person who ever looked out for me. But I was never in love with her. You should know better than to believe everything you read in the papers, Hermione. I was a teenager when we stopped talking to each other." Severus winced. When she had stopped talking to him. "Too young to know what love even was."

"Then why did Dumbledore pull me aside and tell me how very sorry he was that I found out this way? How he knew you must be struggling being married to me when you still cared for her? That _she_ was the reason he hadn't wanted us to get married in the first place, and how I could always talk to him if I needed a place to vent?" She finally turned around and he was shocked to see her eyes overflowing with tears.

"The Headmaster has, ever since my confession of the prophecy and the need to keep the Potters safe, been convinced I harbour some sort of perverse love for her. I allow him to think it." Severus shrugged, the movement feeling uncomfortable as he did. He had no idea how to comfort the witch. "It was easier at the time to let him think that than to try and persuade him that I was doing it because it was the right thing to do, and nowadays it just wouldn't be worth the fight. He hates being wrong."

Hermione's expression didn't lift as she stared at him, a teaspoon in one hand.

"Why are you so bothered by this?" He asked quietly, longing to touch her.

"How many people think that you are in love with Lily?" She asked suddenly, ignoring his question.

"Just Dumbledore. Possibly some of the original order members. Probably most of the people we went to school with."

There was a pause while she digested his words. He wondered if Dumbledore had told her about Lily just to spite him - had somehow sensed that Severus had grown to care for the girl and decided that the distraction was too dangerous for his spy. He wouldn't put it past the man.

"But then, who…"

"Esmeralda believes the story must have been leaked by one of the Order. It's the reason they gave for having me as their contact instead of going through the typical recruitment channels."

"Molly." She said quietly. "I'll bet it was Molly."

Severus blinked. "Why would she endanger the operations of the Order by telling the papers that I'm a spy? It makes no sense."

"Really?" She tossed the teaspoon in the sink and turned to face him, resting the mug on the table, and standing above it. "She hates the idea of our marrying. She clearly thinks I did it to somehow shame Ron or get good grades or… or something. She's never really liked me, she's dropped enough hints that it's queer a girl would spend so much time around two boys and not develop _feelings_." Hermione ticked off her index finger. "Then we have her odd dislike of you."

"It's not that odd." Severus protested. "She's perfectly within her rights to dislike me." Hermione hadn't been alive during the old days, she hadn't even been born. She had no idea what it had been like, the terror everyone had lived under. Being a Death Eater meant everyone was within their rights to hate you.

"Third, she is a whizz at wandless magic and a great rules-follower but I wouldn't think her the brightest member of the Order. Fourth," She ticked off her ring finger. "She's in an obvious spot as an Order Member. Her son is best friends with Harry Potter. Who else is placed perfectly to spy on the boys without anyone noticing?"

"I highly doubt Molly is spying. More than half of her children work for the Order and she would never knowingly put them in danger."

Severus made a note to find out if paranoia was catching.

"I'm not saying she marched into the Prophet headquarters and told everyone what a find she had." Hermione said. "I'm saying that it's very likely she has confided in a friend all of her worries and frustrations, and that that friend is most certainly a reporter."

"Ah."

"The woman is a gossip, as you know. Skeeter is as unscrupulous as they come and is always digging for a story. The two were a match made in heaven. As long as Skeeter disguised herself somehow, was just another mum with an empty nest wanting to chat about the state of the wizarding world…"

Severus stretched his legs out underneath the table and stared across at her, stumped. Her logic… well, it wasn't infallible and a lot of her points were circumstantial at best, but… it seemed likely.

"I should go ask her," he said. "I have a talent for picking up on it when people tell me lies, born from teaching hundreds of dunderheads year after year."

Hermione's eyes turned steely. "I don't want you to go back there."

He raised an eyebrow. The message was clear - he was not a child, and he certainly wouldn't allow his wife to brow-beat him to her whim. She could explain her reasons or walk with him to the Apparition point.

"I think we should stay here for now until we've worked out a way to counter the Dark Mark." She bit her lip. "I don't know if he can track you with it, for one. I know you can Apparate to him, no matter where he is… And so I don't want you accidentally giving Grimmauld away."

"Hermione, I've been living in Grimmauld all summer. If he could track the mark, he knows roughly where it is. One of the reasons I've always thought having an Apparition point _outside_ the property lines is foolish. Why are you really avoiding Grimmauld?"

She squirmed when he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. "I don't think that it's a healthy place for either of us to be right now."

"What does that mean, Madame Snape?" He asked, his voice cold.

"They ah… they have opinions on our union they felt no need to hide." She said diplomatically, flicking her lower lip with her tongue.

"They were cruel to you?" His voice lowered, laced with something dark and sinful that even he could barely identify. He would break them all.

"They…" She took a deep breath as she dashed tears from her lashes. "They were not cruel to me, no. But they were cruel about you."

"Oh, is that all. People have said unsavory things about me since the beginning of my life. I can handle it."

"But I can't!" Her whole body shot straight with her cry. "I can't stand it."

He understood her to some extent. After all, hadn't it been what people said about him that had first turned Lily away? If people saw him as evil or incompetent and at this point the case could be made for either, Hermione's mere association with him, much less their marriage, was certain to ruin her reputation.

"I apologise for any distress I have caused you." He said smoothly, closing his eyes.

For a moment, only the sound of the fire crackling broke the silence of the room. The he heard the sound of her shoes shuffle across the floor. She was leaving him again. Terror gripped his heart for only a second, before a prickle of his skin told him that she wasn't leaving - she was stood over him.

"Don't be ridiculous." He could feel her skin vibrating millimeters from his own, but he did not open his eyes. "It's not your fault people can't see a hero when he's standing right before them."

And then she pressed her lips to his. She was soft and warm and this time Severus had nothing within him that was strong enough to push her away. Instead, his hands scaled her back to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her closer. The troubles of the day were momentarily washed away as she wrapped her small arms around him, her lips lingering in a tender kiss. They embraced for a few moments before Hermione pulled back, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You left the paper here, you know." Severus pointed out. "Did Albus believe you?"

She thumped her head against his shoulder in frustration. "He did." The silence pooled around them until she took a shuddering breath. "He looked into my memories to see it. I hated it. It felt so uncomfortable, so intrusive."

Severus' arms stiffened around Hermione. She tensed and tried to pull away but he didn't release his hold.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you." He said instead. "He can be somewhat… untrusting when it comes to me. He trusts me with his life but only because he can see inside my head at every point. He was the one who taught me to hide my thoughts from Voldemort, so he knows I have the ability to twist my memories…" He patted her on the back awkwardly. "It makes him antsy, I suppose, to not know everything."

She snuggled into his arms and mumbled. "It's alright. Not your fault. At least he asked permission."

He had to tell her now, before she broke his will completely.

"I know you would rather I didn't, but I do have to return to the Dark Lord." He said, petting her hair. Hermione leaped backwards, out of his arms and glared at him. He held open hands towards her. "I have to rescue Draco."

"You have to be kidding. I've just spent the last half hour screaming at Albus that you will be doing no such thing and while your reasons are far more altruistic than his purported to be… It's too dangerous, Severus."

"If you think it's dangerous for me, imagine how much young Malfoy is suffering." Despite the fact he had said it quietly, she looked stung, as though he had slapped her.

"Then we do it together."

"Absolutely not, Miss Granger.." He felt safe in his anger, wrapping it around him like a coil of snakes. It was better than dwelling on his waking nightmare on the train where the Dark Lord had directed him to a defenceless Hermione… He tried again to persuade her to damned well stay here. "How on Earth would I manage to talk my way out of your being there? Am I supposed to have seduced you to the dark side? Brought you in for spreading malicious lies about me? What?"

"We're not going to go to Lord Vol - the Dark Lord and asking him nicely." Hermione snapped, throwing up her hands. "We sneak in, find Draco, free him, and apparate out. You were a spy, I'm sure you did your fair share of sneaking."

"The temple they are using is keyed to the Dark Lord." Severus explained with a frown. "He can detect any spell we cast within its grounds - the instant we cast it. You raise your wand once and we'll be surrounded by Death Eaters in less than four seconds."

"Then we do it the muggle way." Hermione had a hard look to her face. "Can we apparate out or is it charmed?"

"No, you should be fine. We apparate _in_ all the time."

He couldn't believe he was going along with such a reckless, stupid idea. He should not be helping her strategize, he should be striding along the ridiculous grass, away from their ridiculous cottage with his dreams of a happy life and his fawning, ridiculous wife, while she stayed here, safe.

However, he made absolutely no move to do so as she turned the idea over in her head. He knew damned well that if he even made an attempt to leave her behind, she would follow him regardless. _Bloody Gryffindors_. Besides, he didn't really want to go alone. If they managed to do this together, then neither he nor Draco would suffer at the end of the Dark Lord's wand tonight.

She was chewing on her hair again.

With a sigh of frustration he brushed it out of her mouth. "Stop that." He said sternly. "It's very bad for you."

She studied him for a moment and then sat at the table, grabbing her notebook from the worktop she'd abandoned it to earlier, and ripping out the back page. "We'll need Harry's cloak." She began, words forming without a quill as her hand passed across the page. She looked up at him, guilelessly. How Harry and Ron ever did anything other than quietly follow her lead, he had no idea. He thought he might follow those eyes to hell. His chest tightened.

"I don't suppose you have some _Felix Felicis_ in that trunk?"


	17. Chapter 17: Rescue Mission

AN: Trigger warning! Descriptions of torture and conversation/threats of rape and murder.  
Please be gentle with yourselves 3

Leave a review if you like it - they soothe the part of my soul that tells me I'll never make it as a writer. (and yes, I am that shameless)

* * *

It felt as though even the evening sky grew darker as they shivered down the street towards the Temple, wrapped tightly in Potter's cloak. The damned thing had been the cause of enough of Severus' misfortune that it seemed only right that they had it with them tonight. It was about time he had invisibility on his side.

He hadn't felt safe Apparating anywhere near the abandoned structure. He had the not so irrational fear that if he were summoned just as he Apparated, he may end up sprawled at his Lord's feet, the Dark magic that bound the summons overriding his own desired destination. Severus imagined he could talk his way out of such a situation, too, but the thought that terrified him was that he would have dragged Hermione along. She would end up sprawled before the Dark Lord's feet if such a thing occurred, and Severus would never be able to forgive himself.

They had walked the last half mile or so, Hermione practically vibrating against his chest as they did neared the Temple. After the sweltering summer, he would never have thought the nights here would carry such a cutting chill, but his wife clutched her bare arms across her stomach, hands tucked neatly under her armpits as they stood in the Temple's shadow, waiting.

Severus only hoped his message had been understood.

While they waited, he pulled Hermione against him, letting her luxuriate in his body as he ensured he remained limber - curling his hands into fists, releasing them, and bouncing gently on his knees. Given the small window they had in which to act, it wouldn't do to become stiff. He prodded Hermione into completing similar warm up actions - it wouldn't do to have either of them be caught unawares

"See?" The dark wooden door swung open in front of them, banging loudly against the house like misguided percussionists, the voice of the speaker familiar. "Anyone could just walk in at any minute."

At the cue, Severus and Hermione bolted through the door, Severus trying desperately to shorten his steps in such a way that she could keep up while also consciously ensuring their feet were not seen as the invisibility cloak fluttered around them. A well placed silencing charm on their shoes ensured they were not heard. Lucius was standing in the middle of the entryway, Greyback snarling to his left, leaving them just enough space to pass on the right. The invisibility cloak was large enough to cover him and his wife when they were stationary, but he wasn't confident about how much leeway they had when they moved. If Greyback saw a foot appear out of nowhere, they were doomed.

Luckily, Lucius had succeeded in riling Greyback up and his irritation with the blonde wizard was clouding his normally acute senses. "You've got to be kidding me. This place is warded to the hilt. Nobody is coming in that his Lordship doesn't want to see." The werewolf raised a hand to cover his nose. "Gods man, must you wear so much cologne?"

"Ah," Lucius said, ignoring the jibe. "Did you ward it yourself?"

The werewolf nodded, not moving his protective hand.

Severus smirked once they entered the hall, swinging around to watch the scene unfurl behind them. Lucius was far less in his cups than he had been recently and a hint of the smart, commanding Lucius was hidden in his tone as he replied condescendingly, his fist curling around his walking stick.

"Then I assume you centered it around, say, the fence bordering the property?"

"No, of course not." Greyback snarled ferally. "Just the bricks and mortar, else the trash that live outside the gates might get suspicious."

"And it didn't occur to you that brick and mortar wards are easily breached by opening the door and just... walking in?" Lucius' eyebrow raised up to his hairline in an unconscious copy of Severus' own favourite gesture. "If somebody were to just come to these doors and open them, yes an alarm would sound on their touch but, as soon as the door were open, they would be included inside the wards. Not kept out."

Lucius rapped his cane against the doorframe.

"Perhaps you ought to attempt a few different locking charms so that our Lord isn't surprised one morning by unexpected visitors as he's sipping his tea."

Severus pressed a hand on the small of his wife's back and urged her onwards, the sounds of the ongoing discussion fading into the background. Lucius was doing a remarkable job of keeping Greyback and his sensitive nose distracted.

Lucius and Narcissa had begun their courtship at Hogwarts through the exchange of coded messages. Their missives would describe some part of Hogwarts or the surrounding grounds, and would end with a quoted text. Cissy had shown their letters to Severus one evening early in their acquaintance and Severus had been intrigued by the code.

He'd never thought he'd need to use it, of course, but had filed the information away.

The description would usually detail, or hint to, the place they were to meet for their rendezvous, away from the prying eyes of their teachers and others of their house. The quote would need to be found - the page number and position of the quote would determine the time.

Severus had had no choice but to use the same coded communications when he had sent a missive to Lucius earlier that day, hoping that Lucius would be able to decode the message and help him break into the Dark Lord's fortress.

Clearly they had succeeded, and for the first time Severus realised the value of a long-held acquaintance.

His gaze flicked between the stairs which ended on the second floor and the door he knew led to the dungeons.

If he knew the Dark Lord at all, Severus knew that Draco should be downstairs but he'd already visited the cellar last time he had been here - as had Lucius a few weeks ago. There had been no sign of the Malfoy heir either time which meant, despite his gut reaction, they should start upstairs.

In contrast to the outward icy presence of the Temple, the inner confines of the house were humid and warm, stifling almost. This part of the Temple, the entrance corridor and surrounding hallways, were charmed specifically to keep Nagini comfortable.

The reminder made Severus' breath catch. They would need to be incredibly careful if they were going to avoid the snake - a snake whose tongue, much like Greyback's nose, wasn't likely to be fooled by an invisibility cloak.

As a familiar whistle floated up from the floorboards, Severus pressed back into the wall, dragging Hermione with him, and froze. The whistle morphed into a hum as Bellatrix opened the cellar door and stepped out into the corridor, the silver knife in her hand dripping with blood.

She flicked her tongue out to capture a drop of blood from the blade and smiled to herself before spotting Lucius striding towards her.

"Brother-in-law." She greeted cooly, waving her knife at him. "How wonderful to see you."

"Bella." He bowed his head.

"I think the Dark Lord told you Draco was here?" She tilted her head, apparently in concern. "I hope you're not _too_ angry?"

"Angry, Bella?" The fact that Lucius was able to maintain his air of nonchalance in the face of this madwoman was impressive, especially given what was at stake. "Why should I be angry?"

Her eyes grew cold and hard and her entire posture changed - no longer limber and giddy with memories of her latest conquest, but stern and rigid with a clarity that could kill. "Because the boy failed." She hissed. "He is a disgrace that needs to be punished until he learns the error of his ways and comes back to our Lord."

Lucius inclined his head.

"Nothing to say? It's because you know I'm right, isn't it?" The coquettish giggle was back as she paused to lick the knife again, slowly tracing it from hilt to tip with her tongue. "Does your blood taste as sweet, dear brother-in-law - or is it the Black side?"

The muscles in Severus' body tensed as he studied his friend. Lucius' grip on his cane was stiff and his knuckles were white. "I have no idea, Bella." He replied through a clenched jaw. "I can't say I make it a habit to go around tasting family members."

"But how else do you know the blood is pure?" She asked, her voice again blank and innocent. "Maybe one day I will taste yours, Lucius," her eyes flashed with something that would've made the strongest of men shudder, a mixture of desire and madness, "then I can let you know."

She pranced away before he could reply, her bottom swinging invitingly left and right.

Severus breathed a shaky sigh of relief with the departure of the insane witch.

"You're lucky." Lucius said to the wall, conversationally. "Only your presence here kept me from trying to murder her. Imagine how much hot water we'd be in then."

He nodded his head and minced off, tapping his cane against the floor as he did so. Severus noticed that Hermione was very firmly biting her left index finger on the knuckle and tried to soothe her worries by brushing his hand through her hair. He wondered if it was Bellatrix that had her this unnerved, or having to trust Malfoy Senior when he clearly knew exactly where they were … or the thought of Draco downstairs, bleeding out.

Slowly, as silent as church mice, they shuffled to the basement door and as Severus took hold of the door handle, he uttered a quick prayer

It wasn't as though Severus was particularly religious - he wasn't, no man could be after the years of torment he had endured - but given his own bad luck and poor karma, a prayer to a muggle deity could only serve to help them at this point.

The door swung open without a sound as he pulled it back by the handle. There was no time for relief as they rushed inside with Hermione urging him forward before any nearby Death Eaters spotted the open door and grew suspicious.

As soon as the door closed behind them with a nearly silent _click_ , Severus could breathe again. This was much further within the building than he had expected to get with his wife's hair-brained plan. At the very least, he had insisted on forming a contingency plan if things went sour, wherein Hermione would Apparate away as soon as she possibly could while he tried to break Draco out with pure force.

It perhaps wasn't his most sophisticated idea, but Severus was tired, cranky, and in pain from the repeated summonings by the Dark Lord. He wasn't sure even he could pull off being caught sneaking into the Temple with his muggleborn wife while still managing to persuade the Dark Lord that he needed to borrow Draco.

Severus privately suspected that other than his raw skill with Occlumency, he wasn't actually a very good spy at all. He was hardly charming. He stuck out like a sore thumb in an Order full of Gryffindors,the odd Hufflepuff, and a very eccentric Ravenclaw and what's more he hated lying and deception. Severus' main selling points were his devotion to the Order, his ability to do highly unpleasant things without blinking and the fact that the Headmaster could send him into danger without a twinge of guilt. He was constantly just on the point of being found out - well, before yesterday. Now that he had been found out… well.

They stood at the top of a stairwell lit only by the dim light filtering through the crack under the door. Severus squinted in the dark while his vision adjusted, wishing he'd thought to pilfer Moody's great stores of ridiculous implements before their journey here. The man must at least have something that let you skulk about in the dark.

However, that would have required telling Albus and the rest of the Order of Cretins what they were up to and neither Severus nor Hermione had any truck with that. She hadn't even told Harry what she needed the cloak for. His crafty wife had just silently borrowed it while the Chosen One was out playing Quidditch, and left a note in its place so he wouldn't worry.

Hermione began walking down the stairs, testing each step diligently before transferring her weight to it. Given the darkness and silence, he suspected there was no reason to continue wearing the cloak stretched over the two of them and he reluctantly let it slide from his shoulders so that it rested solely over hers. She pulled it off with an annoyed motion and bundled it in her hands.

Hermione's foot hit a rotten stair which groaned in protest as she began to transfer her weight downstairs, and they both froze. For several long moments, Severus could feel his heart fluttering around in his chest like a butterfly was trapped there. There was no movement at the bottom of the stairs and so Hermione crouched down and bypassed the step, forced by the awkward motion to leave the second untested before she poured her weight onto it. Luckily, it stayed silent.

She took a further step down and startled. Severus almost flew to her side before he realised what caused the motion: that she had simply reached the bottom of the stairs and been taken by surprise.

There was barely any light in the basement and even Severus found it hard to see if there were a door or walls. A flash of light appeared t as Hermione struck a match and Severus grinned internally as she transferred the flame to a candle, held gingerly out from underneath the invisibility cloak. His brilliant, overprepared, know-it-all of a wife had come through again.

A low moan echoed through the room and Hermione swung into a duelling stance, candle held outstretched before her as her wand should be. In the bouncing shadows, they could see a pale form chained to the wall just in front of them.

The cloak fluttered down from Hermione's hands, forgotten as she lunged across the room, heedless of any danger. Severus stooped down to pick up Potter's precious cloak, bundling it into a pocket as he studied the room before them with narrowed eyes.

He could see the pale skin and silver hair of his godson stretched across the wall, his head drooping down to his chest. With her flame flickering so close to his skin, Severus could also see the evidence of Bellatrix's attentions carved into him. He snarled silently as thoughts of the myriad of ways he could keep the witch both alive and in excruciating pain sifted unbidden through his mind.

"Draco, Draco. Can you hear me?" Hermione pressed her free hand to Draco's cheek and the young man opened his eyes a crack.

Draco leant into her hand for only a second before wrenching back. "No." He said, his voice distraught. "No. Mudblood, don't touch me." The words would have been more powerful had a tear not been forming in the corner of one panicked eye.

Severus stalked the room, checking with all of his senses for pockets of magic. It was too easy and nothing in Severus' life was ever so. One of these walls could be hiding a curse for whoever opened the binds or Nagini might be curled up in a crawl space, watching them and waiting. But nothing prickled across his senses as he toured the room. There was a crumbling wooden chair pointed towards Draco where his guards must have sat at one point. Severus gingerly patted it to ensure there wasn't a disillusioned Death Eater silently keeping vigil or possibly sleeping and the chair collapsed to one side, a leg hanging off to the side by a single nail.

"Draco, it's me. Hermione." His wife ducked her head to try and catch Draco's eye where he was staring stubbornly at the floor. "What has she done to you?"

Hermione pressed her free hand against Draco's forearm, just above the set of lines and curves carved into his godson's flesh which spelled out the words "blood traitor". In the flickering light, Severus could barely make out the words, but he could see enough to tell that the marks were either fresh or made by a cursed blade - each wound still oozing droplets of barely coagulated blood.

He didn't know how, or when, but Bellatrix was going to be at his mercy exactly as Draco had been at hers.

Satisfied that they were alone and relatively safe, Severus joined Hermione by his injured godson. A rapid assessment of Draco's condition told him that the boy would need a healer - and fast. In addition to the open wounds on his arm, his shirt was matted with blood and his limbs were twisted in a grotesque way from the way he was hung against the wall. Before they could do anything, however, they had to ensure that Bellatrix hadn't been successful in her quest to brainwash the boy back to Voldemort's side.

Draco's eyes widened as he caught sight of his godfather. "Severus." He whispered, the words soft like a prayer. His gaze flickered to Hermione and back to the towering Professor. "Why are you helping _her_?"

There was something in his tone that left Severus distinctly unsettled. This was not the cock-sure adolecent Severus had watched over with exasperated pride. The young man before him was broken, his grip on sanity slipping.

Severus didn't have a handy excuse. "The Dark Lord asked me to join her in matrimony."

While he spoke, Hermione began tugging on the manacles that wrapped Draco's ankles in an attempt to free him from his binds. They were locked tightly, chafing against his ankles.

"To _Bellatrix_?" Draco asked, his faint voice straining under the shock.

"What on earth are you talking about boy?" Severus asked, frowning. "This is Hermione. You have been in countless classrooms with her."

"I know what you are doing." Draco coughed suddenly, and kept coughing. Hermione's hands drew away from the shackles as his body convulsed. "You are trying to trick me. I won't fall for it. I won't. So please stop it. Severus. Please?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed Bellatrix under his breath, a picture of exactly what the witch had been doing to Draco beginning to form.

"Draco, I swear to you that I am Severus Snape and that is Hermione Snape, formerly Granger. Ask her something that Bellatrix would not know."

Silver eyes, shot with pain, stared into Severus' own before transferring the gaze to Hermione. His fingers trembled as he studied her intently before finding his voice. "Why did you slap me a the end of sixth year?"

"Because you kissed me."

"What did I say before I kissed you?"

"That I didn't have to be such a goodie two shoes all the time and that I should try living life without chasing approval."

Draco's mouth dropped open and despite his binds he reached his hands towards her. "It's really you. Both of you. You're going to rescue me?" His whisper contained hope enough to move mountains. Severus watched as his wife shifted so that her forehead pressed against the younger Malfoy's. A sudden stab of jealousy bit him in the chest at the sight of Draco's fingers caressing her cheek and the familiarity of their embrace.

Now was not the time for useless possessiveness.

Severus threw himself into casting a rapid barrage of spells instead, feeling the way the Temple's wards reacted as they raced the news of their intrusion to the Dark Lord. They had to move fast but luckily, Hermione and he were prepared.

First, Severus locked the door with a modified _Colloportus_ , magically sealing it from the onslaught he knew would come. It was not infallible, but it would at least win them time. Then, he turned his attention to Draco and one by one the shackles fell open underneath the might of Severus' magic, clanking uselessly against the wall.

As soon as Severus started casting, Hermione's arms were underneath Draco, supporting his weight as she slowly lowered him to the floor, the candle lying off to one side, it's light burning low. It might not have worked had Draco not been half-starved. The young man shook against her, gazing at her with such blatant adoration that Severus was torn between joy and bitterness.

"Help me." Hermione whispered to Severus, frowning under Draco's weight. She twisted to hand him over and as she did so she swore.

"They got hold of him again."

Severus unlocked each in turn, but as soon as he released the third the first two were snaking back out to clasp themselves around Draco, stretching to snap once more around his wrists and ankles. They chains were much longer than they had been when their quarry had been secured against the wall.

"Fuck." Severus lowered his wand, his free hand wrapped around Draco's thin body awkwardly, sharing the weight with his wife.

"They are cursed." Draco said mournfully, the hope draining from his eyes as the sound of footsteps pounded through the hallway upstairs.

"Unlock them again." Hermione urged Severus. "Come on. I have a plan."

Severus stared at her as he cradled his godson against him, bearing bulk of the boy's weight though Hermione still kept her arms wrapped tightly around the young man. Despite the clear pain which shone in his wife's eyes, he nodded, beseeching the gods that whatever her plan was would work.

The first shackle released only for Hermione to lunge forward and offer her own delicate wrist to the bind and Severus could do nothing but stare at his wife and clutch his godson tighter as more of the young man's weight dropped against him.

She mouthed, "I'm sorry" as the second shackle tightened around one of her ankles.

Rage welled in his chest and his lips formed a tight line as the third shackle captured another of her limbs, the fury at her stupidity consuming him. Something in his chest wrenched and he mechanically released the lack shackle, watching with a numb heart as the chain darted towards her.

"Get Draco out of here, Severus. He needs help. Don't come back for me." Her eyes shone with sincerity as she spoke quickly.

The chit tilted her chin towards him and he couldn't resist twisting to brush his lips against hers at the unspoken invitation. "Hermione… this is foolish." She didn't reply and he pressed his forehead into hers. "I can't leave you like this."

"Of course you can. Draco needs your help." She whispered matter-of-factly.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Bellatrix's lilting voice carried down, the echoes making her sound more off-kilter than normal. "Severus, are you there? The Master said you might be trying to free my silly nephew. Seems foolhardy if you ask me."

As Severus wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak and scooped Draco up into his arms, a fierce sense of loss and pride vibrated through Hermione as she watched him disappear from sight. Perhaps it was because of the blood rushing through her ears but she didn't hear the familiar crack of apparition echo through the room as she expected.

Bellatrix was halfway down the stairs when she caught sight of the wall upon which Hermione was strung, the candle giving off just enough light to identify the form as definitely not Draco. The gurgle of pleasure and frustration that erupted from the mad witch chilled Hermione down to her toes.

"Well, well. He always did value his vows. I suppose his vow to protect Draco was a little stronger than his vow to keep you safe, eh, little Mudblood?" She minced across the floor with a gleeful smile. "I wonder if he left you here as an apology, 'Sorry, but I need the brat. Let me leave you my whore instead.' Funny, you would have thought he'd have been more... loyal." She cackled at her own joke.

Bellatrix slid closer, cold, nearly black eyes eyes peering directly into Hermione's own.

"I always used to suspect he was homosexual, you know." Bellatrix danced a finger up Hermione's thigh as she spoke, the fingernail digging in painfully against her skin. She tilted her hips to try and get away, but this just made Bellatrix press harder, chasing the wince of pain. She stopped abruptly, her hand hovering just over Hermione knickers.

"Severus was never very interested whenever the Dark Lord offered him one of us as a reward. He always looked like he wanted to get back to his brewing, a lip curled in distaste, and about half of his buttons still done up."

"Please," Hermione begged. "Stop talking."

Bellatrix' fingers began to scratch down Hermione's other thigh and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Perhaps when I'm done playing with you and the Dark Lord rips all the information out of that pretty little head of yours, I'll let you experience a real fuck. Hmm? It's such a shame Greyback always breaks his toys." She didn't look too disappointed at that revelation. "Have you ever had a pureblood?"

A loud bang echoed throughout the chamber. Hermione started as Bellatrix twirled, a blade outstretched, towards the noise. She laughed, a horrific girlish giggle, when she saw in the darkness what had happened. "Don't worry, little Mudblood. Just a chair that's collapsed. I thought it had little time left - just like you!" She pressed the flat of the blade against Hermione's cheek. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Was it Draco that took your virginity?"

The mad woman pulled away, tilting her head to study Hermione. "He was so pathetically grateful the first time you came here. Well, I say _you_. Did you know we have a stash of your hair? Sometimes I wear your skin when I go out hunting Muggles - women are always so much more trusting of a couple offering them a ride than a man on his own…" Bellatrix's cheeks flushed and she bit her lip, smiling.

Hermione ripped again at the binds that held her to the wall, filled with a mad urge to escape, to flee from this awful woman, knowing all the while it was futile.

Bellatrix held up her knife so that Hermione could study it. Runes etched into the surface came alive as Bellatrix stroked her finger down the curved blade, the dim light of the room flickering across the silver metal.

"Do you think I ought to wipe Malfoy's blood from it before I pierce your skin, little girl? Hmmm?" She pressed the knife lightly against Hermione's face again; this time the tip of the blade dug in shockingly near her eye. Hermione froze, her breath wavering. "Or do you think the presence of blood from the great line of Black might finally clean your filthy blood?"

She pulled the blade across Hermione's skin, leaving a faint line of fire down her cheek. Bellatrix stook a step back, studying her prey with arms crossed delicately over her chest as Hermione's blood dripped from the blade. "Where shall we begin?" She asked. "Your breasts? Your face? Your pretty little legs?"

Hermione struggled harder against her bonds, the cold metal of the shackles tearing into her wrists and ankles as her terror grew.

Bellatrix smiled predatorily at her before promptly toppling to the ground, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Severus stood where the diminutive witch had been, a wooden chair leg in one hand as he let the invisibility cloak slip from his shoulders. Hermione frowned as he clubbed the unconscious witch with it once more.

She jumped back against the wall as a hand stroked down her arm, though she couldn't see anyone next to her. "It's me, Granger." Draco whispered as the shackle loosened on her wrist.

"Wait, no. Draco stop. It's ok, I can stay here." Hermione panicked, her voice shaking. The thought of leaving Draco on the wall after all that disgusted her. God knew what he had endured.

"It's alright, Granger. It's alright. See?" Hermione looked across to where her wrist had been to see the shackle fastened tightly around a bit of wood.

"What…" She asked, but didn't finish the question. Now wasn't the time. Instead, she stood there quietly whilst Draco and Severus undid the bonds and pulled her free.

She hadn't even really been hurt and felt as weak as a kitten with fear. She had no idea how Draco was even standing.

"Hermione." Severus called, steadying the trembling witch against his chest. His voice was gentle but strong. She focussed on it. She was safe as long as she heard that voice, she knew it. "We need to Apparate out now. Bella broke the ward on the door, but if she doesn't return soon the Dark Lord will send more men." As if in answer, more footsteps began to pound through the corridor above them.

A bead of sweat formed on Severus' forehead. "I will Side-Along you both, then I expect you, Hermione, to Apparate three more times before taking the floo back to the cottage. Try not to Apparate anywhere you care about, it is highly likely they will be following you and they may lay waste to whatever they find. I'll do the same, laying false tracks."

Severus turned his gaze to his godson, "Draco, you'll be taking the Floo immediately from the first place we stop to the home of a friend of ours, before the potion wears off, who will-" The pain of a Summons twisted his arm; clearly the Dark Lord wanted him to report _now_. "Heal you." He finished, teeth clenching together. The hand clutching his wand was white with effort.

"3...2...1"

Hermione gripped onto Severus' cloak and Draco's shoulder as the world spun around them.


	18. Chapter 18 : What Family Means

**AN: LumosLyra has as always done magic on this chapter. And then I got it back, and like a 5 year old given a painting, have added, changed and otherwise distorted the work. Thus, any errors are mine and mine alone.**

 **Thank you for all the wonderful review comments. They made me smile like a loon while writing at 5am (yes, I get up before work to write this for you!) and I wish I could give each of you a big hug.**

 **Not mine, no money.**

 **Hope you enjoy this one.**

 **Best, Anjanas**

* * *

Severus stepped out of the Floo and onto the ornate Oriental rug, vanishing the soot from his robes.

He'd been in this room only yesterday scrutinising Esma and Nick for any influences of the Dark Lord. Now, he watched as Esma worked on the pale form of Draco Malfoy stretched out across her floorboards, a couch pillow under his head as she purged curse after curse from his body. Sweat beaded across her brow in tiny droplets as she worked; Nicholas handing her various reagents when she called for them and holding her wand whenever she needed both hands on the young man whether it was to apply a salve or embed the effects of a complicated healing spell into his flesh.

Hermione - he almost didn't recognise her she appeared so lifeless and haggard - was slumped in a chair in the corner of the room staring intently at the Mediwitch as she worked. Severus dragged himself to sit down next to her, a shooting pain stabbing through his leg from foot to knee with every step he took.

"Severus," she said, a grey hand slipping into his own. "I was so worried."

He squeezed his fingers around hers. "They chased me for a long while. I cut it close deliberately - a few times I saw Dolohov before I finished casting - but of course that kept their blood up."

Her head fell onto his shoulder and he studied her from beneath his lowered lashes. She had a mug cupped between her hands, filled with a milky tea, and was currently pressing it against her breastbone - possibly for the warmth of it. He should take her up and tuck her into bed - no doubt the woman was knackered though her Gryffindor sensibilities just wouldn't let her admit it.

"Gods, look how fast she is." Hermione mumbled as Esma tried to close the wounds on Draco's arm, chanting all the while. "How is she not exhausted? She's been working for almost two hours."

The night was like a veil of dark velvet around the cottage in which they waited, watching the Mediwitch work. He knew it was late and the lazily cast _Tempus_ charm flashed 23 before sputtering out like a bad light.

A mug appeared before him and Severus took it without question. "Careful, it's hot." Nicholas warned as he returned to his wife.

Severus was embarrassed to say that he was a spy, given that he hadn't even noticed the man move.

"I just want to close these." Esma muttered, neither noticing nor caring that her elegant cornflower-blue silk dress was splashed with blood. "If we can get them to close up tonight the boy might avoid permanent damage. What kind of monster…" She trailed off as she poured herself into the next spell she cast, balls of light erupting from her wand and bathing the wound in light.

"Do you ever think about what you will do when all this is over?" Hermione's tone was slow and tired but when he didn't answer she pulled back a little, her face tilted to the side. "I mean the war." She clarified.

Severus rubbed at his face with his right hand and with the left, took hold of hers. "I don't think about it," he admitted. "I need to focus on what I do day-to-day or else I make mistakes."

He wasn't sure he could admit the truth to her, that he didn't think about it because he was fairly sure he wouldn't get a future. His path was a dark one and up until recently, he had been happy to tread it alone. It was necessary in order to protect his Slytherins, a thankless task if there ever was one. The house was despised and the students were in danger, not only from other houses and the forces that tried to recruit them before they even reached adulthood, but even from among their fellow housemates. Between the children and the constant threat that Riddle would return, his years had passed by in a blur.

He had always known his fate; he needed to spend no time on idle fantasy.

He would work alone, scheming the Dark Lord's defeat. Either the light would win, at which point Severus would be murdered by fellow Death Eaters for his betrayal or else imprisoned for the acts he had partaken in. Or the Dark Lord would be victorious, and Severus would take to sampling his potions, working to relieve the torment of those the Dark Lord tortured until he was of no more use before partaking in too much of something or the other in his lab and slip gently into that sweet night.

In none of his plans had there ever been a young, bossy, bushy-haired witch with her hands on her hips, working alongside him, supporting him… He suppressed an audible gasp. It was too painful to think about, too painful to wish for. Instead, he squeezed her tightly to him, trying to impress the memory of her warmth against his skin into his memory permanently. He blinked the prickle of tears from the corner of his eyes.

The Floo lit up once again and a crumpled Narcissa stepped out of it, her blonde hair in disarray. Her eyes sought out her son and as soon as she found him she fell to her knees, a keening sound erupting from the back of her throat. Esma didn't look up from her complicated spellwork.

Despite his weariness and his hesitation to leave Hermione, Severus placed his mug down onto a small table and crossed the room to her side. Narcissa held her arms out to him like a child as she saw him approach, and he rubbed her back in slow circles as she wept tearlessly. "It's going to be alright, Cissy. Come on, the mediwitch needs a clear space to work. Why don't we go sit next to Hermione and I'll get you a cup of tea?"

Her fingers clutched at him as he helped her to stand up, but her gaze didn't leave her son.

"Severus?" Her voice was fragile and broken. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes, of course he is. He's a Malfoy, he can survive much worse." He lowered her gently to the sofa which already held Hermione and patted her hand until she let go. "He was on his feet before we left the Temple, Cissy. He helped free Hermione. He's a hero."

"You were there?" Cissy tilted her chin towards the younger witch, who still looked rather gray, once again keeping her eyes fixed on the scene before her.

Hermione hesitated. "Yes."

"I couldn't have been that brave." Narcissa confided, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I am trembling like a leaf now, leaving a madman who kidnapped my son. I'm so scared I can barely think. To sneak in… to defy him openly..."

Narcissa's elegant, ring-clad fingers instinctively reached for the small bag by her side, but she stopped herself before she opened it. Instead, she scooped it up onto her lap and played with folding and unfolding the chain strap nervously.

Severus returned with the tea, and Cissy held it in her lap with one hand, playing her fingers up and down the delicate handle as she stared at her son. She reached for his hand and Severus let her entwine her fingers with his, knowing she was seeking comfort.

He missed the way Hermione's eyes widened as she saw them holding hands, a blush smearing her cheeks.

The fire glowed green again and both Severus and Hermione immediately had their wands in hand, poised and ready to attack if need be. Hermione barely had the energy to stand up she was so wiped and yet the adrenaline pumping in her veins kept her gaze and hands steadily focussed on the fireplace.

Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shimmering green flames, his silver robes specked with ash and dirt and his face bone white. Severus lowered his wand at the sight of his friend, though his wife did not.

"Lucius," Severus nodded, his left hand still entwined with Narcissa's. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, just a little blood sacrifice at the crumbling heap we call home." Lucius replied airily, his eyes fixed on the tip of Hermione's wand. "You know, the usual."

"Don't play with her." Cissy warned, her voice wavering.

Lucius rolled his eyes and opened both hands wide, showing Hermione clearly that he was unarmed and released an indignant huff. "After following your husband about the entire country, deliberately slowing down a horde of murderous Death Eaters without showing them my true intentions, and _after_ reporting our failure to the Dark Lord, I retired to the house to set up the wartime wards."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you-"

"I am no longer a follower of the Dark Lord, Madame Snape." Lucius admitted, his tone suddenly brisk. "Now either cast something or put the wand away, I want to see to my son."

Hermione swallowed and nervously sheathed her wand, not daring to glance at Severus as she did so. Lucius knelt at Esma's side and took over Nicholas' job of handing things to her, letting the jovial rotund man rest.

"How is he still moving whilst we sit here exhausted?" Hermione asked Narcissa, too tired to dwell on the oddity of whispering with a woman who loathed her entire existence simply because of the supposed purity of her blood.

"Narcotics." Severus said drily as he surveyed his friend. "At the very least, a Pepperup and an Eternal Awake, from the look of him."

At least half an hour passed in silence as everyone in the room focused on the ashen young man on the floor and the mediwitch who was desperately trying everything she knew to ensure his survival.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Esma sat back and wiped at her forehead with the sleeve of her discarded robe. She blinked at the crowded settee and at Lucius, as though she had been completely oblivious to their entrances. "Are you the parents? I've done all I can for him. I'm not a curse breaker, but I couldn't sense anything malignant clinging to him except the arm wounds. Those, I'm afraid, look to be permanent."

Lucius turned his son's arm towards him and studied it, his eyes glittering dangerously. "This is Bella's work, no?"

Narcissa disentangled herself from the sofa and Severus' grip on her hand, mirroring her husband's potion on the other side of her son before brushing Draco's hair from his face with a light touch.

"I told you, I told both of you." She scolded, the tone of her voice matching the icy blue of her eyes. "Didn't I say to rescue him as soon as you could, that we couldn't know what the Dark Lord was doing to him?" Her voice broke as she pressed a delicate hand to his temple, her eyes looking anywhere but the horrifying words etched into his flesh. "And now he has been scarred, written on!"

"Isn't there anywhere we can take him?" Lucius pressed Esma. "You admit yourself you aren't a Curse Breaker - would someone more specialised be able to help? Money is no object."

Esma shook her head sadly. "I don't know," she admitted, accepting yet another mug of tea from her husband. "I would say there is very little chance of removing the damage - from what I can ascertain, the blade was designed to inflict permanent wounds. I'm not even certain if the scars will fade in time."

Narcissa wailed, her fury dissolving into despair as another tear slipped down her cheek. "My darling boy." She muttered, stroking his cheek. "My sweet, darling boy."

Hermione shifted awkwardly, crossing her arms across her chest to clutch at her shoulders. She felt so out of place in this circle of mourners, as though she were trespassing upon their sorrows- an unwelcome outsider. Severus shifted along the sofa to wrap an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pressing her hands into place as he drew her against him.

He pressed his lips close to her ear and even empty of energy as she was, Hermione could not prevent the shudder of desire that seemed to rock her whenever he got close enough that his breath danced across her skin. "They are tired and overwrought. Luce has resorted to drugs and Cissy is trying desperately not to do the same. Please don't judge them for their reactions here."

Her eyes wide, she turned to look at him, accidentally brushing his lips with her own as she did so. She blushed as he pulled away slightly, leaning back against the sofa though still keeping her close. "I would never -" She paused, and then admitted. "I just think they ought to be alone in their grief."

Severus' lips pursed. He'd been with this family through thick and thin over the past few decades. He'd drunk with Lucius when he'd failed to obtain the prophecy before it was destroyed, held Narcissa when she'd found out she miscarried her first child, watched Draco struggle against the Dark Lord's influence and finally break free... He had no wish to disrupt their friendship as it had been one of the few things to keep him sane during the long years he'd spent in service to the Dark Lord, even if they had both been somewhat misguided over the decades.

Yes, there had been a few tense moments which had threatened to rip their friendship to shreds - Severus had taken Lucius to task when he'd found out about his connection to Ginevra Weasley and Tom Riddle's diary. What kind of idiot releases a giant snake into a school full of children, especially one your own child attends? But then, Lucius hadn't known what would happen. Severus half-suspected Lucius hadn't even known his Lord was within the diary at all but had merely thought it could be used to spy on the Weasley's and, more importantly, Potter.

The Malfoys were the closest Severus had ever had to a true family. Yet, now, Hermione _was_ his family. She had opened up her heart to him, trusted him implicitly, given herself over to his care.

Severus was torn and it made him acutely uncomfortable. Instead of replying he stood, leaving Hermione cold where he had previously had his arm wrapped around her. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room.

He drew Mediwitch Esmeralda to one side of the room, their heads bowed together as they spoke in hushed tones. Esma shook her head several times but she bit her lip as if she were unsure.

Hermione watched the conversation from the little fabric sofa, admiring the commanding presence her husband emanated even when barely able to cast a spell. It must have been drilled into him from more than a decade of teaching. The pair finished their conversation and after bowing his head towards the mediwitch in a solemn manner, Severus turned his attention back to the Malfoys.

Draco's mother was holding his hand to her heart, weeping openly, while his father was still on his knees, the haughty expression he carried did little to hide his relief that Draco's eyes were now, in fact, open. Lucius' eyes even crinkled a bit at the corners. Hermione released an audible gasp as relief flooded through her - Draco was awake!

As Severus knelt nearby, all three members of the Malfoy family looked up at him. Hermione felt so out of place that her skin positively itched as the three heads bowed over Draco, talking in an undercurrent of voices she couldn't quite hear.

Hermione started with surprise when another cup of tea was waved in front of her eyes. "You looked a little to… flat." Nick explained, taking Severus' spot on the sofa. "I suspect it's the adrenaline leaking out of you, but I'm no Healer." His eyes shone with his self-deprecating comparison with his Mediwitch wife. "You did an amazing thing tonight." He added seriously. "Thank you for letting us take part in your war."

Hermione nodded. She hadn't done _anything_ worth praise; it was Severus' quick thinking which had kept her from Bellatrix's clutches otherwise she suspected she would still be at the mercy of the other witch's cursed blade. She shuddered and swiped at her cheek, shocked to find that it was wet with tears.

Confused by her reaction to Nick's praise, she took a sip of tea in a paltry attempt to steady herself.

"So what now?" Nick asked, spreading his hands wide around his stomach. "Unless the plan is top secret."

Hermione frowned. If they had a plan, she wasn't privy to it.

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to discuss that, yet." A silky voice vibrated above them. "As soon as we have clearance, we will of course share it with you." Severus was standing in front of them, his eyes as black as onyx as he stared into Hermione's own whiskey colored orbs. With a flick of his head he turned his attention to Nicholas. "However, I am at liberty to say that my friends will return home now. They believe their son will be more comfortable there. Do you need any funds for your continued silence?"

"Of course not." Nick blustered. "I said I was willing to help and I am."

"Yes," he affirmed, "but that was before you knew the price of helping. That oriental rug may never be the same."

"Oh, codswallop!" Nick stood up and slapped Severus on the shoulder in an overtly friendly gesture. "You're welcome to our carpets at any time." He walked off in search of his wife, leaving Severus and Hermione the sole occupants of the couch.

"Will they be safe?" Hermione asked, smothering a yawn. "The Dark Lord must know they have turned on him."

"He won't figure it out until he either summons them or tries to visit the manor." Severus soothed. "Lucius will have put on a magnificent show of trying to find me in order to make me pay for abducting the Malfoy heir. That should keep the Dark Lord satisfied for a while. Of course, Lucius cannot go back to him - he has some skill in Occlumency but I don't think it would withstand scrutiny. They should be safe in the manor. Those wards have existed for as many centuries as the family have resided England and now that Luce has activated the wartime wards, they will deny access to any who are not of the Malfoy family."

"But doesn't that mean Bellatrix -"

"She is not a member of the house of Malfoy, merely a member of the houses Black and Lestrange." Severus pointed out. "Given your propensity for knowledge, I suspect you would enjoy learning about the history of Malfoy Manor, though there's not a reference text on it yet as there is for Hogwarts. Perhaps you should ask Lucius to share some of his favourite stories, though - I do believe those particular wards have been used in periods of peace by several of the more recent generation to keep their mother-in-laws out."

Her grin was weak but the sight of it thrilled Severus. Hermione was still exhausted, and yet just being back at Severus' side seemed to lighten her worries. She had thought, when Severus had left her alone on the couch, that he was saying she should leave if she wanted to but he would stay. But, of course, he had come back.

"Hermione." Draco was standing limply, supported by his mother as he called her name. The witch turned to face him. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_." She replied, her lips twisting wryly. "I guess you're the one that figured out how to keep the chains occupied?"

Draco nodded and despite his ashen complexion, he was practically preening at his own brilliance. "I had a lot of time on my hands, hanging in the dark, staring at that chair." Draco turned his attention away from Hermione, a shiver running the length of his body as he looked pointedly at her husband. "Hey, Severus, do you have any more Pepperup hidden somewhere? I am having difficulty standing."

"You drugged him?" Narcissa asked, her hands on her hips as she stared accusingly at Severus who held his hands palms up.

"He needed to be able to take care of himself so that we could get him out. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. Would you rather I had left him there?"

Narcissa stamped her foot and huffed. Obviously, her exhaustion and frustration had overcome her pureblood upbringing, even if it were only momentary.

"No." Esmeralda demanded, blinking as though she had just woken up from a long nap. "No more potions in that young man for a week, until his condition is stabilised. Try to avoid casting anything on him apart from the odd diagnostic charm, and, you sir?"

The mediwitch waited until Draco's attention was firmly placed on her before she continued. "Cast no magic for a week, until you can walk and talk painlessly. Do you understand?"

The blonde man stared at her with eyes like cut glass before nodding. The Malfoy's bundled into the Floo, Lucius nodding a goodbye to the pair and Severus waited until the flames had settled back to orange before warding the fireplace against any intrusion.

Severus tried several times to get the layered wards to trigger, slurring his words, his hands shaking. Esma, curled up in a transfigured wooden dining room chair with her head resting back against the doorframe, tried to get him to stop with a wave of her hand. "We'll be safe enough." Her voice dripped like honey. "Don't worry about it. Just rest now, we can take care of it in the morning."

It was as though he couldn't hear her or perhaps he simply chose to ignore her as he kept casting and recasting until finally, the wards shimmered into place with a click. He wiped a hand across his brow, disgusted that it came away thick with sweat, and with an angry twitch of his wand that too was dispelled. He snarled in displeasure as his face grew dewy again almost immediately and sheathed his wand in an effortless motion.

Then he held a hand out to his wife who stood and took it without question or hesitation.

"Don't unward it for anyone." He cautioned them. "Not even family, not tonight."

The other couple nodded wearily, Nicholas coaxing another cup of tea into his wife's cold, clenched hands.

"Thank you." Nick nodded to the fireplace, which still glowed faintly silver with the power of Severus' magic. "I never thought I'd be regulated to tea runner again." He smirked. "Wonder how fast I'll be promoted this time."

Esma smacked her free hand weakly against his shoulder, her eyes tightly shut but a smile stretching her cheeks.

Severus nodded, hovering before turning to the door and showing both himself and Hermione out.

"Do you trust them?" Hermione asked as they trudged back to their holiday cottage.

"We didn't have much choice. It was clever of you to befriend them, having a Mediwitch unaffiliated with the order -"

"Not them."

Severus stopped walking at the interruption and looked down at his wife. She was toying with a curl and, even as they came to a halt, she did not lift her eyes from the grass they were flattening.

"Hermione." Severus began, cupping a finger underneath her chin, drawing her eyes to his. "The Malfoy's are my oldest friends. But … why do you think I warded the fireplace?"

"But then… why not take Esma somewhere safe and have her heal Draco there? Why not use Malfoy Manor?"

"You know as well as I do why we could not use the Manor."

A bird chirped at them in outrage and Severus took her elbow. "Let's talk about this inside."

She waited, tight-lipped, as he locked and warded their cottage too, staring at him as he carefully bundled the Invisibility Cloak and stowed it into a pocket of his own, black cloak.

"Well?"

"The Manor had to be warded against everyone, all but the direct family, or else the Dark Lord could simply enter and find Draco lying there. I trust the Malfoy's to do what is best for Malfoys, and that includes not running back to the Dark Lord with our location. Besides, even before Draco went missing Lucius has been itching under the Dark Lord's rule."

"Really?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"Really." A flash of anger chased through Severus' blood as he gained the landing. The witch was so fickle. "You told me that all my mistakes could be forgiven as the work of a mad dictator. Why can't you do the same for my friend?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Lucius Malfoy's mistakes are a bit more recent than yours, Severus. You were just a child!"

"So was he." Severus deflated, turning back towards the bathroom. He didn't have the energy to shower, although Merlin knew he needed one. His body felt lined with sweat from his excursions and grime from the dungeon. At the very least, he thought, he needed to rinse his face or else he'd never be able to sleep.

"What… what do you mean?"

"Lucius Malfoy was 14 when his father swore him into service of the Dark Lord, although that wasn't his title back then. Before that, Luce could be cruel in his defense of others but he was never cold. When he came back that Christmas with the Dark Mark emblazoned on his arm everyone in Slytherin felt something had changed."

Hermione stared at him as he meticulously undid his shirt buttons and pulled the garment off, though it stayed fast around one wrist, dangling from him. He pulled at it again, baring his teeth in frustration. Hermione stepped forward, running her cool fingers underneath the fabric at his wrist.

"Go on." She said as she worked at the button.

Severus sighed. "Lucius was like me - he was never allowed to relax at home, never allowed to think he was part of a loving family. His mother died when he was very young and his father never recovered. Riddle promised to bring her back if he could have something of the Malfoy estate to prove their loyalties. From what I could gather Lucius was never even consulted."

Hermione finally freed him from the sleeve, and Severus filled the basin with cool water, splashing his face and drying it with the thin towel before he continued.

"With his future decided, he grew mean, vicious. Once you're branded -" here Severus indicated his Dark Mark with a flick of his wrist, "it's like the old muggle ideology where there is an angel and a devil on opposing shoulders. It feels like someone is ordering you about, whispering in your ear while you sleep, making you believe that you're useless, that nobody would ever -" His jaw snapped shut, and Severus was surprised to see that he was panting, his narrow chest pumping with the emotions he had unwillingly conjured.

"Lucius became bitter and angry at the world. He _has_ done terrible things but only ever when his Lord has asked it of him."

"I suppose the Dark Lord asked him to abuse House Elves?" Hermione asked, her arms once again crossed over her chest. Severus could see the indignation in her eyes as he attempted to explain further.

"I told you, he lashes out. I don't approve of his actions, but I understand them. When you are trapped, when you're working with dark magic day in and day out, it feeds your anger. It becomes harder and harder to do the right thing, especially once you start to give in to it."

Severus trailed off. There was nothing he could do to persuade her; he would have to accept that. Not only was she practically indoctrinated in her bias against Slytherin by her schooling, she and her friends had been personally targeted by Lucius. He brushed past her and flicked open the door to the bedroom.

"If he is bound by the influence of dark magic, how is Lucius able to defy the Dark Lord now?" Hermione asked, the former indignation receding into curiosity.

"His family bond is growing stronger. When the Dark Lord started hinting that he would take Draco into service, Lucius saw red and that gave him the power to begin standing up to the Dark Lord. Not in an overt way, mind you, but he is trying."

He sat on the edge of slowly worked first one foot and then the other out of his dragonhide boots. Hermione bit her lip, hesitant to ask the question and make herself sound jealous - it wasn't exactly a love match, she reminded herself yet again - but she needed to know what was between Mrs Malfoy and Hermione's own husband.

Finally, the words seemed to blurt out, tired of her indecision. "And Narcissa?"

"As a Pureblood witch, she follows her husband's lead in-"

"Not that." Hermione interrupted, setting her shoulders. "Narcissa and _you_."

Severus looked up at her through the curtain of black hair, and she could see the way his mind catalogued back in time through the evening. She heard the intake of his breath when he realised what she was asking about and prepared herself for his rebuke. She _knew_ it was none of her business, but she couldn't help but search for answers.

"Cissy and I have been friends for a long time." He mumbled finally, surprising her. He stared down at his unmoving fingers. "She has been through a lot lately and is struggling with some old demons." His mouth puckered for a moment as he thought about the way she had lost herself in drugs and potions after her loss. "She loves her husband and would never betray him. I am… a safe place for her. She knows I value their wedding vows as much as she and Lucius do themselves, that I would never do anything or assume anything between us. She is…" His lips stretched into a smirk as he searched for the right word, "handsy with her friends." Then Severus' smile fell away and his head bowed, so that all Hermione could see of him was his glistening black hair. "But she has few of those. When she is frightened for Draco or Lucius, I am a sounding board. There is nothing more between us."

The question tangled in Hermione's throat but she forced it out. "Do you wish there was something? Between you, I mean."

"Merlin, no!" Severus barked a laugh as his eyes flew up to meet hers. "Narcissa is lovely, but she isn't exactly my type. Just a very close friend. I think you will like her."

"She is married to a blood supremacist who has threatened my friends more than once." Hermione pointed out, her lips twisting. "Her husband supported a dictator dark wizard, stood by while people tried to kill me…"

Severus tumbled into bed as the easy rapport between the two faded back to morose observation, flopping between the duvet and sheet in an undignified motion. He didn't bother to remove his trousers - at least he had had the forethought to remove his boots. They were silent as Hermione pulled off her dark skirt and t-shirt and began to hang them up.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, as she tugged open the wardrobe door. The presents from the Weasley's crinkled as she pulled them out, the ugly wrapping paper stretching under her attentions. A set of linked W's glimmered underneath her fingers over a field of orange, filled with tiny brides and grooms doing a salacious tango in various states of undress. She knew they could only come from one source - her husband's words only gratified her suspicions.

"Fred and George Weasley handed them to me at our wedding." Severus said. He was almost glad for the distraction - it was clear Hermione had no reason to trust Lucius and he felt foolish for attempting to get her to see things from the Malfoy side.

The witch placed the two parcels on the bed, and wordlessly Severus flicked his wrist, sending the package addressed to him back up to the wardrobe shelf. "I know what mine is." He explained, refusing to allow himself to enjoy the sight of his wife in her underwear and churlishly staring at the ceiling instead.

Hermione slid one nimble finger under the wrapping paper, surprised to find Sellotape to pull away from the garish, moving design. "I thought we agreed no presents." She murmured, dismantling the paper.

Severus sniffed in reply.

As the gift slipped free from the packaging and pooled onto the bed, Hermione gasped. Severus sat up, craning his neck to see what it was - but she picked it up and span to show him. The heavy air of brooding silence their discussion had caused completely undone by her delight.

She was holding a large, ugly, hand-knit woolen sweater to her chest. It was lime-green, and had a purple H knitted into the front. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"It certainly looks like a Weasley jumper." Severus replied non-committedly.

Hermione slipped it over her head and grinned at him from underneath a wild, curly crop of _bright orange hair_. He snorted.

"What?" She asked, her hands folding back cuffs to free her hands before she spun away on her heel to check her reflection. The sight in the mirror made her gasp. "I guess this is their way of saying I'm an honorary Weasley." She pulled at one curl, delighted at how the hair colour sparkled in the candlelight.

"It better not be permanent," was Severus' only comment.

"Let's check." She pulled the comfortable garment back over her head and Severus was surprised to see that the jumper was black on the inside. Did that mean the Weasley's were trying to say something about her character? His?

"There, see?"

Her hair was once again a cascade of unruly brown madness. Severus smiled and nodded, slumping back against the pillows once again.

Hermione slid in next to him, curling against his warmth. They didn't say anything for several moments, Severus reminiscing and Hermione thinking about his revelations, though his fingers chased patterns along her arm almost without thought. He liked having her here, he realised. Even when they were at cross-purposes she was still happy to lie by his side and support him with her presence.

Finally, just as Severus was sure she was asleep, he heard her mumble. "I can try...with Lucius I mean. Just…" She took a deep breath. "be patient, ok?"

He squeezed her in his arms as a thank you, unable to find the words to express the hope that ignited in his chest at her words. Her embrace felt like home.


	19. Chapter 19 : The Waiting Game

Moonlight glistened through countless leaves as a breeze stirred in the forest. An owl hooted from a branch and it was so quiet that Hermione thought she could hear it rustle his wings from high above her.

When Dumbledore had materialized at the cottage door, early in the morning after they had rescued Draco, Hermione had been too tired to really protest the orders he was giving. Now, not having seen Severus for a week, she felt resentment burning in her chest at the old man. He had interfered just when she felt as though their marriage was finally losing its awkward, gangly early days and evolving into a genuine partnership. She had felt the promise of something more, something that might fill the empty hole in her chest that seemed to ache during nights like this one and now everything was put on hold.

At least she had managed to force Dumbledore into promising that Severus would be safe while she was gone. Severus had suggested that he help the Weasley twins with their product line, an idea which kept Hermione happy as he wouldn't be on the front-lines, and she suspected Dumbledore only agreed because Severus would be out of sight, out of mind.

She missed him.

Hermione shivered against Harry and Ron in the small tent, the nylon walls sparse protection against the autumn night.

The first few days had been awkward. Ron barely acknowledged her presence let alone spoke to her while Harry stared at her in a mix of admonishment and hopefulness. But the days spent camped in the Forest of Dean, awaiting Dumbledore's orders, separated from her husband with no way of knowing how he was… It had torn down Hermione's barriers and whilst their friendship was not as thick as it had always been, she knew it was beginning to repair itself.

Ronald had fallen asleep with his head slumped against her shoulder, his mouth full of half-chewed jerky she luckily couldn't see from this angle and Harry was braiding together stalks of tall grass. One snapped, and he silently reached out of the tent and plucked up another blade, seamlessly working it into the cord.

Hermione rather thought he would enjoy knitting and resolved to teach him the ins and outs of knit and purl once this was all over.

She stretched upwards, careful not to dislodge Ron but desperate to relieve the pressure in her back. It cracked, but it still ached - a byproduct, no doubt, of the short bursts of sleep they snatched in between watches on the hard floor, sharing the one sleeping bag Hermione had borrowed from her parents.

Luckily the Grangers were on holiday, exploring Australia and New Zealand on a cruise ship. From the photos they had sent to her - Hermione had checked her email when she'd been searching for their camping equipment - it was more like a city than a ship but she hoped, at least, that they were safe.

"We should move in a few hours." Harry said, his voice flat. Under Dumbledore's advice the three of them had moved the tent every few days, always at a different time of day. There was no pattern to it - they rolled a dice to see who would pick when they would move and nominate the next spot to ensure that nobody could follow their movements by working out who chose their next camping spot and how.

Not that anyone was watching them.

Hermione pressed her cheek into the heel of her hand and grunted her reply. She missed Severus. She wanted to have a second honeymoon so they could actually spend time together without needing to enter the battle of wits between the Order and the Dark Lord every night.

When she realised she had thought of him as the Dark Lord and not Voldemort, her lips curled into a small, sweet smile.

Dumbledore had promised her that Severus would be assisting in planning the attack, preparing potions, and helping the Weasley's distribute something they called "Wartime Whizzbangs".

She curled her hands back underneath the thick woolen fabric of her Weasley sweater and took comfort at how warm the soft knit felt against her hands.

Ron had protested vehemently the first time she'd pulled it on, claiming it was "gross" and made her look like his sister with the way her curls turned the characteristic Weasley red. Harry had raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly comparing Hermione to Ginny unfavourably but wisely keeping his mouth shut. It didn't help that the colors of the sweater were so garish, but Hermione loved them.

Hermione was privately glad she wasn't Harry's type. The tent was so close-quartered that she had abandoned nearly all attempts at modesty, stripping to her bra and knickers to swap between her two sets of clothes, not even bothering with erecting a barrier. The only concession she made was to turn towards the wall so that she at least couldn't see them, and therefore could imagine them closing their eyes or looking away.

It was too dark to read, even with the moonlight, and with that distraction taken from her Hermione's mind strayed dangerously to how easily Bellatrix had toyed with her. The feel of her long, ragged nails scraping across her thighs. The gleam of madness up close. It was disconcerting.

Hermione shuddered. It was as though the jumper was suddenly constricting around her throat, not the warm barrier it had been before and she tugged it off and cast it aside, letting Ron slump down to the ground. She knew she was panicking - it was not the first time since their rescue mission that she had been forced back into that dungeon, if only in her mind - and tried desperately to remember what Severus had said.

He'd been so patient with her. Honestly, after the second time that she had woken up fighting the bedsheets the night after their rescue attempt, she'd expected him to move back to his old room at Grimmauld. They'd both been bone-tired, so she would even have understood him if he'd gone elsewhere to rest. Instead, he'd held her close as she wept onto his chest, quivering with fright. Once she'd recovered herself, he'd taught her to meditate. Sitting cross-legged in their darkened bedroom with his arms still gently encircling her, he'd talked her through each moment - his chocolate voice an anchor for her when thoughts had threatened to intrude. 'That's it,' he'd said, 'just focus on the breath. Feel how it rushes past your nostrils, each inhale unique. Let's count each breath as it comes. One... two... three...'

She'd fallen asleep in his arms and only awoken when Dumbledore had pounded on their front door.

It was a lot harder than Hermione had expected it to be - clearing her mind and finding her center without Severus' voice to guide her. Hell, just remembering to do it was a lot harder than it should be. But Hermione had practiced it every time she'd woken with Bellatrix's laughter in her ears and Severus' arms half a country away, and it did help.

She calmed herself now, observing the way her skin was breaking out in goosebumps as the wind swept through the cracks of their summer tent, the way her breath was short and sharp. Slowly, over time, her breathing slowed and she felt herself relax. The fear, as if it suddenly realised there was no danger, skulked away.

"You ok?" Harry asked. Even if he hadn't been studying her with sad eyes all week, he was still more observant than Ron. "Is it anything you want to talk about?"

Hermione shook her head, working her fingers through her hair to release any knots which had formed.

"Does he… is he hurting you?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"What? Severus? No, of course not."

"Then why…"

Hermione sighed and pulled her hair back and up into a loose, messy bun, before pulling the jumper back over herself. It still seemed to have her body-heat still knitted into the fabric and instantly she felt her shivering ease.

"It isn't him, ok? It's… I can't talk about it right now. But we did something for Dumbledore -" Hermione thought the white lie wouldn't hurt "- and I was in danger. Only for a few minutes before Severus rescued me but I just keep ending up back there, you know? In my mind."

"Is that why Snape can't keep his eyes off of you?" Ron asked, yawning. Hermione's nose crinkled as she thought she caught a glimpse of one of the jerky pieces falling from his mouth.

"Yes, he's been helping me with the… the side effects." Hermione admitted.

Silence fell across the cabin once again and slowly the sun began to break across the sky, first a shade of pale pink before blossoming into a darker pink before fading into shades or orange and yellow.

"Blimey, Hermione. What the hell?" Ronald exclaimed, scampering away from her.

"What?" Hermione asked, frowning. 

"You look like _Snape_!"

Hermione fished her mother's compact from her bag and checked her reflection. Ron was right - she did look like her husband. Her curls had turned a dark ebony shade and her eyes appeared dyed to match - they were black, fathomless pools very similar to Severus'. She pulled the fabric of the jumper away from her torsor so she could check it and saw that it was no longer lime-green but instead black, still with the purple H in the middle.

"Your brothers are geniuses." She told Ron, releasing it so it fell against her once again.

"They are bloody mental." Ron grumbled, pulling the sleeping bag up so it covered their laps.

Hermione suppressed a chuckle and shook her head. He would never understand the complex spellwork that would have to be woven into a garment like this at every interval, binding two different enchantments together without any adverse effects. She knew she was likely a guinea pig in ensuring that the person didn't end up with both hair colours - or worse - but she was still unspeakably impressed.

It was just light enough to read, now that the sun had peeked over the horizon, though the light was weak as it filtered through the forest canopy. Hermione pushed through the flap of the small test and meandered over to a small tree stump she had spotted yesterday, her book open on her lap before she was fully settled on the wood. She had brought _Hogwarts: A History_ instead of the portable library she'd been developing, knowing that they might be caught at any moment. She might be able to fight her way free, but she couldn't see Harry or Ron understanding why she would face Death Eaters to save a book.

As soon as she cracked open the book a white light blossomed over the pages. She slammed the covers shut, surprised, and the light blinked out. She cracked open the book once more and the light returned, a soft glow making the pages more legible.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered towards the tent.

A short mop of unruly black hair appeared in the tent opening. "Mmm?"

"Can you see this?" She asked.

"Hermione, you know we aren't supposed to cast magic!" Harry hurried across the small clearing to her stump. "Turn off the light. What if old Voldy finds us?"

"Harry, calm down. It isn't me." She closed the book, cutting off the light, and then opened it again.

"What the -"

"I think it must be part of the 'Snape-mode' of the jumper." Hermione said, unconsciously nibbling on an errant curl. "That would make sense, right? It's certainly never done this before... when I was ginger."

"That's weird." Harry agreed. "Let me try it on?"

Wordlessly, Hermione tugged it over her head and handed it to Harry, her Snape-like features disappearing the moment the collar was past her ears. Harry barely poked his head through when his hair turned bubblegum pink eliciting a snort from the witch. He ignored her laughter and picked up the book, though when he opened it, nothing happened.

"I guess it's a personalised gift." Hermione said ruefully, accepting it back from Harry with a grin as she realised his pink hair had not faded back to black when he removed the jumper. She debated internally whether or tell him or not.

"Harry." Her smile faded as the gravity of their situation settled upon her once more. Here they were joking around like children when they faced so much worse in the coming months. Hadn't it only been a few days ago when she barely escaped the clutches of Bellatrix Lestrange? Their world was on the cusp of all-out war. "Is Ginny…"

He nodded glumly, taking a seat next to her. He swallowed and stared into the forest for a few moments. "I'm not even sure I like her, to be honest." He admitted with a sad smile. "We don't know each other very well, she was always a little too starstruck around me for me to get to know her. I'm not ready to be a dad - to bring up a kid with her. I just want more time."

"You knew her well enough when I walked in on you two." Ron called from the tent, poking his head out of the opening. His face was a rictus of disgust, but it was clear it was because of what he was remembering rather than the confidence Harry was sharing with them. "Blimey, Harry, why is your hair _pink_?"

Harry flushed an uncomfortable shade of red which clashed violently with his bubblegum tinted hair. "Ron, I told you before, that was her idea. She insisted." He reached up with one hand to pat his hair hesitantly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"And I was scared." Harry admitted. "I thought that if Dumbledore didn't get a solution soon I'd be forced to marry any old Death Eater. So when Ginny said that if we had a baby they wouldn't dare to separate us, I listened. I am sorry, Ron. She seems like a sweet girl, I'm just not sure that the hero-worship is healthy for either of us. At least she no longer flees from the room when she sees me."

Carding his hand through his hair, Ron looked doggedly away from the other two. "Yeah, mate. I get it. Lavender and I have been lucky that I'm not important enough to arrange a match for. We nearly announced our engagement but then Hermione showed up -" Ron flashed her a quick grin - "and revealed the Marriage Law for what it really was. Lucky break. I'm too young to marry, I'd probably mess it up."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "Me too. And you are my best mates, I don't want to lose your friendship because Ginny and I split up. _If_ we do, I'm not sure that we will yet. But, if we did… would you still be friends with me?" Her heart tore at the innocent, scared look in Harry's eyes. His family had been so very awful to him and she could see the bravery it required for him to stand up to his friends like this.

"Of course." Hermione gave him a one-armed hug. "You're stuck with us, buddy. Probably even after you want us gone."

Harry half-laughed and hugged her back. "Come on," He said softly. "Let's get our camp torn down and out on the road again."

"Alright." Hermione replied, letting him slip from her arms. "But first I need to take care of something. Will you wait for me before you start packing up? I don't want you to think I'm shirking my duties."

"Mione," Ron reached around Harry to ruffle her hair. "You've never shirked anything in your life. I, as chief shirker, have been trying to get you to stop studying and start living in the moment for years now."

She stood up before he could ruin her hair anymore and shook her head, grinning from ear-to-ear. It felt so good to be back with her two best friends; her only friends, if she was being honest.

She wound her way into the trees until she reached the dug-out pit, undid the button at the top of her jeans - and stopped when she spotted a flash of gold fly through the trees. It swept down and hovered before her, spindle-thin wings vibrating as fast as a hummingbird.

She held her hand out to it hesitantly. "Now." The Headmaster's voice whispered as though it were carried by the wind. "3, 22."

Hermione finished her business quickly, reciting the numbers in her head as she did so.

"We've got to go." She called out to the camp, washing her hands in the warm water they kept over a small, smokeless fire. Once the two boys were next to her, she continued in a murmur. "Albus sent a message." She shook the snitch and it repeated the code.

"3, 22" Harry muttered, flicking through his small notebook.

The Headmaster had given each camping group - for there were several - the exact same book. It contained pages and pages of text, spelled to look like a boring diary in the handwriting of whom-so-ever the book belonged to. In this case, Harry's loopy script scrawled across the page. As he searched, Hermione shoved their supplies into her beaded bag. Who knew what was going to happen and if they were going to be able to return to their spot here?

Page 22, sentence 3 detailed an excursion Harry took to the London Zoo with his sister. Hermione rolled her eyes - the spellwork was shoddy at best, especially as Harry didn't have a sister.

"Who has been there?" She asked as she emerged from the tent. Ron kicked a stone and shook his head, but Harry - to her surprise - nodded. "Alright, who would you rather Side-Along you, Ron?"

Ron bit his lip as he looked at Hermione, clearly deliberating the point, and then jerked a thumb at Harry. Hermione nodded, repositioning the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"On the count of three then." Her innate bossiness always rose in situations where she felt stressed or scared, a way of controlling the world when it threatened to hurt her. Harry marched over to Ron and awkwardly wrapped his arm around his best friend, his face white.

"3...2...1…"

With a twist and a crack, Hermione found herself in the middle of the insect exhibition. Of course. This was the place she had despised having to walk through as a child, with all of the various stick insects and spiders struggling to crawl up from their glass containers and out onto the children watching them. So of course it was the one place her brain fixated on when she tried to come here.

She shuddered and made quickly for the exit.

It was late afternoon and the park should still have had some stragglers in it, but it was deserted. Cautiously, she slipped down the silent pathways and deeper into the zoo. The wind whipped abandoned crisp packets and maps into lazy whirlwinds as her eyes scanned the area.

Where was Dumbledore and the rest of the Order? Why was it so quiet?

She saw the Morsmordre curling in smoke above a hill and picked up her pace, keeping low to the ground just in case she were the first one here. The thought crossed her mind that she shouldn't rush in alone, but she was more preoccupied needing to know what the situation was. Not to mention, she needed to find the boys.

She rounded the corner to a small viewing platform and was swallowed by the noise of battle. A hundred curses and counter-curses seemed to echo through the area coupled with explosions, shouts, and cries. Experimentally, she took a step backwards and all noise ceased.

The need for stealth and silence no longer seemed necessary.. With grim determination she unsheathed her wand and stalked deeper into the park.


	20. Chapter 20: Battle-hardened

Hermione felt as though she had been fighting for hours but it could only have been ten minutes since she stumbled into the first group of Death Eaters. Sweat shone on her arms and lay thick against her forehead but she couldn't stop. Mechanically, she cast spell after spell, not pausing to check if they reached their targets. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for Harry or Ron. She had to prove to herself they hadn't been splinched or captured, that they had made it.

It would be just her luck if she needed to go back and reattach their legs from an unexpected splinching so that the Dark Lord could finally be defeated, for good. She could almost see Rita's headline now - ' _Potter Splinched - Hogwarts' Shoddy Apparition Training At Fault?'_.

She blinked and her wand faltered. A cloak was billowing down the path away from her, long black hair brushing the collar of it. Only one man had such strength and grace. _Severus_. She ran after him, ignoring the bright lights which burst around her feet as she did so.

With a lurch, she grabbed hold of his wrist. He whirled around and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up and into the air, wand tip pressed against her throat.

It only took a second before he recognised her, releasing her to the ground and scanning behind her with his slate eyes.

"Severus," she gasped, one hand wrapped around her throat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your life," he remarked nonchalantly as a _protego_ slipped from his wand, enveloping the pair of them in a shield. "Albus ordered me here, in case someone needs to distract the Dark Lord."

"No, Severus. You can't!"

He ignored her, his eyes black and unyielding as he easily deflected an incoming spell, his wand moving in intricate patterns that Hermione half-recognised.

"I have to." Grasping her wrist, he drug her around the corner and tucked the pair of them into a viewing station, cartoon depictions of lions roaring on the walls. "But I wanted to see you first before I went to find him."

Dread settled in Hermione's stomach, twisting and clenching in tight knots. Something in his face told her that he didn't believe he would survive this conflict and that he believed this was his last chance to see her - to say goodbye. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

"Where shall we meet after?" She asked, trying to will him into optimism.

He smiled and brushed her chin with his thumb. "Our room in Grimmauld, of course. We have nowhere else."

He swirled, heavy black robes fanning out behind him as he moved away although Hermione grabbed at his cloak in a bid to stop him. Fistfulls of the fabric bunched up in her fists when he stopped, turning back towards her.

"Kiss me," she demanded, "while we're safe here."

He obliged, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips that felt like heaven. In the space of another breath, he was gone.

"Survive," she whispered the command quietly as she followed him with her eyes. "Please, just survive."

When Severus disappeared around the corner, she scanned the battlefield, staying low. She couldn't see anyone, although that didn't mean much in the Wizarding World thanks to disillusionment charms and invisibility cloaks. There was a ladder leading up to the top of the building. If she could reach the roof, she would be able to see almost the whole area and perhaps catch a glimpse of Harry and Ron… or Severus.

She disillusioned herself and took a step towards the ladder but a group of Death Eaters swept around the building she was sheltering behind, almost brushing against her. She froze, pressing herself against the wall.

The last Death Eater to round the corner was Lucius Malfoy. While he still wore his mask, he remained easily identifiable by the length and color of his hair - not to mention his confident strut.

"I'm sure I saw the little cunt go this way." A high-pitched voice claimed with a wild gesture. "If we can get her quick, we can persuade the rest to stand down."

"Yes," drawled Lucius. "The entire Order will collapse if we remove just one little Mudblood. How stupid are you?"

Hermione frowned.

"Nonetheless," a third voice joined the discussion. "Better to have her caught or killed than running about the battlefield and since she's alone…"

Hermione pressed her hands against her mouth and took small, silent, shallow breaths. They needed to go away. Panic threatened to overcome her once more but she used the meditative technique Severus taught her to keep her sanity intact.

"Which way then?" Lucius commanded impatiently. "Just pick one, she won't be much trouble so long as we catch her."

The group of three turned towards the path though Lucius lagged behind. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw him cast a tripping jinx at one of his fellow Death Eaters and then a _Confundus_ on the other.

She needed to talk to him. She followed them, keeping low to the ground and hoping that the nobody would notice the small shimmering form that crept by. She wondered how on earth Lucius had managed to infiltrate the Death Eaters when Severus had been so sure he wouldn't have returned and remained alive. Had Severus misplaced his trust in the fellow Slytherin? She was just behind Lucius when he swung, his wand twitching in his hand. He was much further back from the other Death Eaters now, lagging behind laconically.

"Who is there?" He demanded quietly.

Hermione had no choice but to trust him. "Severus is here. In the battle." She said. Lucius lowered his wand, and cast a long glance behind him to make sure they were alone. "If you see him… Please, protect him."

Lucius stared at where he thought Hermione must be, his eyes cold and calculating. Then he nodded. "I will. Protect yourself, too. He speaks very highly of you."

Without a word more, he stunned one of the Death Eaters - the one he had tripped - and killed the other with a quick, flash of green light then the tall aristocrat was gone, sweeping across the field, his mask still firmly in place.

Once she picked her jaw up from the floor, she took a moment to steady herself by taking several deep, calming breaths , choosing to stay hidden for the moment. Lucius had been playing with his fellow Death Eaters, she realised, cold spreading through her arms. He had been following them with the aim to murdering them somewhere remote, enjoying their trust in him.

A loud crack of thunder reverberated through the battlefield though the sky was clear, driving those on both sides to their knees at the sound. A magically amplified voice echoed from every surface. "Harry Potter," it hissed. "I will find you and I will kill you. Why do you let your friends sacrifice themselves for you, die for you, when you could end all this by coming to me now."

Hermione's heart leapt to her throat. It was as though the Dark Lord knew just how to taunt Harry, drawing his self-sacrificing tendencies into Voldemort's own evil ends. She knew he would go to him - to Voldemort - directly, despite her admonishments and Dumbledore's instructions. He would do anything to save his friends pain, anything to protect those that fought for him. He had run alone into Riddle's basilisk, stood between Buckbeak and death...

She ran towards the source of the voice, half tripping over her own feet. There were fewer people to see now, the air was filled colourful with hexes thrown by invisible friends or foes and her breath burnt in her lungs as she forced herself forward into the fray.

Hermione skidded to a stop at the entrance to the 'show-ground', an amphitheatre. In the centre lay Nagini, curled protectively around Voldemort's chair and occasionally tasting the air. She could see Harry and Ron, too, stalking down the amphitheatre steps towards the Dark Lord and his beloved companion. Two Death Eaters stood on either side of Voldemort, their masks firmly in place and their postures as straight as soldiers, wands bared. Bodyguards.

Hermione pushed herself onwards after silently refreshing her disillusionment charm, quietly flowing down the seats towards her friends. They shouldn't do this. They should - must - wait until the Order were here to distract him.

"Riddle!" Harry shouted as he reached the barrier. "Here I am. Call back your dogs."

Hermione winced. She was too late. Everything was going wrong.

"Ah, Potter. There you are. As impulsive as ever, aren't we?" Voldemort's hand stroked Nagini's head ponderously as the giant snake butted against him. His lips twisted into what might pass for a smile, yet the sight of it made the skin on Hermione's back crawl. "Shall we have a chat?"

Despite the rage evident in Harry's face, his wand was trained on Voldemort, his hand steady. Hermione felt a warm sear of pride for her friend racing through her chest.

"Why don't you come down here, Potter? Scared?" The taunts were childish, the hint of a grotesque smile still playing on the Dark Lord's lips.

"Call away your Death Eaters and I'll come." Harry bargained.

Voldemort just laughed. He stood up until Nagini slithered back, curling her body further around his chair and then Voldemort launched himself into the air, flying up the steps to join Harry. "I don't think so." He said, his reptilian voice still tinged with amusement. "They are having fun. It would be... _cruel_... to stop them now."

Harry snarled and raised his wand higher but Voldemort simply brushed it aside, snapping the wand in two like a dry twig in his bony hands before letting it fall to the ground, useless. The sound of it hitting the floor seemed to resound in Hermione's mind, but Voldemort continued to speak, his voice a rustle of leaves against the forest floor.

"Let's end this problem here and now." Voldemort said, his wand trained on the Boy-Who-Lived. " _Avada Kadavra_."

Hermione's heart stopped as the green light tore from Voldemort's wand, ripping through Harry's body and leaving him slumped lifeless on the ground.

Ron leaned over, his face pale and sweat-soaked. "Harry, mate?" He asked, sounding lost. "Harry?"

The Disillusionment charm dissipated as Hermione ran to Harry's side,skidding to her knees to clasp his hand between two of hers. It felt as though the world stopped turning. They had failed.

Voldemort turned his wand over in his hand, a sinister smile playing on his lips at Hermione's sudden materialization. "Ah, there's the Mudblood. I knew you'd be skulking about nearby. Now, just to make sure you two aren't going to cause me any trouble, I ought to take care of you, no? Shall I try you as war criminals and have you locked up in Azkaban? I think that would be unfair to some of my pets, they do so enjoy playing with you. Bellatrix asked for you, witch, especially. Something about unfinished business, hmm?"

Hermione shook as Voldemort slid his fingers underneath her chin and tilted her head upwards. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

"Leave her alone," Ron yelled, raising his hand to cast something at the wizard.

Without looking at the young Weasley, Voldemort's hand flicked and the boy was launched backwards into the room, scattering pews as he landed.

"Better not to risk it, eh?" Voldemort continued as though nothing had happened. Hermione's eyes clung to Ron's still body, crumpled in the debris. "One little kiss and my closest confidante betrayed me and if you can do that to Severus let's not dwell on what you would accomplish with Bella. No, you, my dear, are far too dangerous to keep around." He pulled straight a curl and pressed his wand into her temple on the other side, " _Avada_ -"

"My lord." A startlingly familiar voice interrupted. Voldemort's tongue stilled, his eyes flicking to the stage. "A moment of your time, no more."

Hermione shook like a leaf as Voldemort turned his attention back down to the stage, above which Severus hovered.

"Speak of the devil." Voldemort smiled, releasing Hermione's head. She slumped to the floor. "And he shall appear. Hello, Severus."

"I wish to speak with you." Severus stated.

"No," Hermione moaned.

"Ah, now that I've won you have come crawling back, have you? Such a shame you betrayed me, I had such high hopes for you. Was any of what we shared true?" He drifted back down to the stage as he spoke, Nagini uncoiling to circle the edges of the stage eagerly.

Dread formed a lump in Hermione's stomach. _No._

"No matter." Voldemort interrupted, holding his hand up. "There is nothing you can say that would persuade me. Nagini?"

The snake reared up, rising to the same height as Severus. Hermione watched with unblinking eyes as the creature seemed to sway. Severus didn't look away from the Dark Lord as it lunged, sinking its teeth into his neck, and the snake pulled back, scattering blood like water droplets.

Hermione felt as though her world went black and her heart stopped beating. First Harry and now Severus. They had no hope, nothing. Voldemort had won.

The Dark Lord screamed wordlessly, reaching out for Nagini. The large snake swayed side-to-side, it's eyes wide and frenzied, a small dagger jutting out of its throat at the end of a long, gaping wound. Blood streaked down the length of the snake, pouring faster and faster as it thrashed.

Hermione's shoulders shook violently but no sobs could escape her lips as she cried silently for all she had lost, curled up next to Harry. Severus had sacrificed himself to save her, but now that she didn't have him her life was empty, useless.

She didn't notice that Ronald had crawled out of his nest of broken, collapsed chairs and knelt at Harry's other side. When Ron shook her shoulder, she brushed him away. There was no point hiding anymore. She was done. She had nothing left.

"Mione," he hissed, shaking her again.

She opened her eyes into slits to glare at him but as soon as she saw his face, she froze. He was… smiling?

"He's alive," Ron whispered into her ear. Instinctively, Hermione turned to the stage, where Severus' lifeless body lay, blood pooling around him. "Look, he has a pulse."

Ron dragged her hands over to Harry's wrist and her eyes widened as she felt the gentle flutter of Harry's heart beneath her fingers.

"That's imposs-" She bit her lip and cast " _Enervate_ ". Now was not the time for worrying about what was possible.

"We've got to get out of here." Ron said, pulling Harry into an upright sitting position. "Before Voldy works it out."

Harry struggled free of Ron's arms and shook his head.

"No," he whispered. Hermione turned to the stage and saw that Voldemort was petting Nagini as he commanded several Death Eaters who stood before him. A flash of blonde hair at the corner of the stage attracted her eyes, but it was too far to see anything clearly. "We finish this now."

Harry stood up, gingerly, as though his muscles were tight and painful, and took hold of the broken wand abandoned in the dirt at his elbow. He left no time for anything to go wrong. " _Avada Kedavra_." He cast, staring straight at Voldemort and the group of Death Eaters.

Time seemed to slow as the bolt of green travelled from the upper stairs and down to the stage, striking Voldemort in the throat. Hermione watched dispassionately as the Dark Lord slumped to his knees, all traces of life gone, his eyes open and glassy. His wand bounced from his lifeless fist and rolled along the wooden floorboards. It was almost anticlimactic.

A long keening sound echoed around the walls.

"Run," Hermione whispered to Harry. "Run, they're coming."

With a high-pitched wail, Bellatrix turned towards them, her teeth bared. "Who dares?" She screeched. "Who dares murder the Dark Lord?"

She bounded towards them, her eyes gleaming in insanity. Harry and Ron turned to flee, but Hermione stood her ground.

"Mione?" Ron asked, twisting his head to look at her. She shook hers.

"I can't," she said. "Just go."

Ron's hand dangled in the air between them for a few moments as he reached for her, begging her wordlessly to take it while Harry's face twisted in desperation with his inability to save Hermione from herself. With a final shared glance, Harry and Ron sprinted towards the safety of the contingent of Order members in the distance, cloaks flapping in the air behind them. Hermione disillusioned herself and ducked behind the little door down to the stage, her heart fluttering in her chest so rapidly it was impacting her ability to draw a breath. Could Severus have survived as Harry did?

The Death Eaters swarmed around her, making for Harry with Bellatrix in the lead. As soon as the last one passed, she hurried down the stairs towards where Severus lay.

She wasn't alone on the stage. Lucius stood, still tucked into the corner, his lips moving constantly as he stared at his best friend. Hermione ran towards Severus, studying the damage along his neck as her feet threw her forwards. His chest rose imperceptibly and she gasped in shock. He _was_ alive. She seemed to fly across the stage following her realization, cupping the torn skin of his neck together with one hand. Lucius walked slowly across the stage to hand her a small brown object. A delicate glass bottle filled almost to the brim with a viscous coffee colored liquid.

She nodded her thanks, blinking tears from her vision as she unstoppered the bottle and sniffed, more from habit than from anything else. It smelt both wonderful and terrible, like a mix of liquorice and lavender. Without a second thought, she poured it into his open mouth. They didn't have long, although whatever Lucius was casting had given her some extra time. She didn't even recognise the language, let alone the spell.

"Come on." She whispered, one hand still holding together Severus' throat. The brown liquid seeped from one of the cuts, pooling against her fingers. "Come on. Please."

Then, casting the bottle to one side before he choked on the liquid, she began casting spell after spell to knit the skin of his neck together. She was not a trained healer and she had no idea what she was doing. She wished Esma was here to guide her but she was alone with nothing more than a chanting Lucius, a potion, and her own wits.

The muscles of his throat slowly closed, followed by the skin though it was likely if he survived he would be scarred and Hermione offered a prayer to whoever was out there that her efforts were not in vain. As long as he could breathe and swallow, she felt he had a chance at survival. Next, she worked to stop the bleeding, carefully closing the remaining tears in the skin without stopping the blood flowing through his veins. It was delicate spellwork and her skin was soaked in sweat as she worked. At least she had picked this up from her fortnight in St Mungo's - she was never one to lie in bed and let a learning opportunity pass her by.

Lucius stopped chanting as the skin began to knit, his voice hoarse and tired from near constant use.

Severus opened his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He whispered. His voice was so quiet she could barely hear it.

"We won. Vold- The Dark Lord is dead."

Severus' eyebrow rose in disbelief and Hermione shifted to give him a better view as he gingerly turned his head. He studied the prone form of his master with a sour twist of his lips.

"Then go," he urged, willing her to understand. "If you stop healing me now, I will die and you can-" a wet cough interrupted him and Hermione winced. "You can choose another, younger man to… to love."

Hermione's heart twisted at his monotonic command. "Don't be a fool," she admonished.

Then, in an effort to shut him up, she pressed her bloodied fingers against his mouth with shaking hands. Once they were safely home she was going to sleep for a week with her body firmly wrapped around her husband's; if he were willing to suffer through the boredom and stopped trying to push her away. Tears dribbled unnoticed down her cheeks.

He lifted a weak hand to brush the tears away and turned his head, spilling her fingers across his chin. "Hermione," he whispered, cupping her face in the palm of his hand. "What are you doing? Go to your friends. Lucius can take care of me."

"I'm not leaving you," she pleaded. "Severus, I can't leave you."

His abused heart seemed to swell in his chest.

"I.." He pushed through the pain cutting through his throat. He needed to tell her now, before he lost his nerve. "I don't deserve you," he hissed. "You're one of the most delightful…"

Hermione could think of no better way to shut him up than to press her lips to his once more. Her heart skipped a beat when he kissed her back, though she reluctantly pulled away.

"Stop talking," she ordered. "Your throat needs rest, a lot of rest. But you're going to get through this, you know."

Severus stared into her eyes instead as she continued fussing over him. She had done the magical equivalent of first-aid and he knew it would take many trained professionals before he could be sure he would truly survive. They would have a long road ahead of them, even if they could find someone willing to treat an ex-Death Eater - probably the most famous Death Eater currently alive in Britain. He suspected he was beyond even Esma's capable hands and they would have to suffer St Mungo's. There would be a trial, of course, but that he could handle as long as his lovely young bride was by his side.

He smiled as he lost his grip on his tether to the world once more.

"Come on," he heard a voice at the edge of his consciousness say. "We can apparate him to the cottage."

And then everything went black.

* * *

 **AN:** Is it the end? Is it finally over? Of course not!

Thanks as always go to _The One With The Red Pen_ , Lumoslyra, who takes what I write and makes it beautiful.

Reviews and follows make the world go 'round.

Also, I'm thinking of starting a newsletter dedicated to the fandom - newly completed Sevmione (and possibly tangentially related fiction), old goodies you might have missed, up-and-coming series to keep an eye out for, anonymous author spotlights… if this sounds like your kind of thing let me know and I will set one up! (But don't give me your email addresses yet. Privacy first people!)


	21. Chapter 21: Respite

**AN: There was much excitement in the reviews section when I mentioned doing a newsletter, so I'm excited to announce its launch.**

 **To keep it simple (for now), simply email** thefanfictioncurator at gmail com **and I will add you to the list.  
The monthly emails will contain recently finished, recently started and old-but-good fanfictions featuring Hermione and Severus, as well as some tangentially related fictions I think we'll like, art of the month, writing prompts and more.  
As members, you will also have the ability to send me fanfictions you liked for consideration in the next mailing list (please do this! I'm obsessed but my time is sadly finite and I don't want to miss amazing fics just because I have to work! :D).**

* * *

"The Cottage" as Hermione discovered, was a villa in Spain, near Granada rather than something quaint and tiny tucked off in the middle of nowhere as she was expecting. There were green trees lining the dusty roads surrounding The Cottage and every morning Hermione smiled as she woke up to the smell of ripe pomegranates Breinda had prepared, scooping the seeds into a little plastic box which lived in the cooling cabinet.

"Good morning, Mrs. Snape," Breinda greeted her with a warm smile as Hermione took a seat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. "I'm afraid the young master is still asleep, but I can put some bacon and eggs on for you if you like?"

Hermione took a sip of the iced water Breinda handed her. "No, thank you. I'm just going to grab a quick bite before I head upstairs."

Breinda frowned. "Of course, Mrs. Snape. Let me just get you some bread and perhaps a few slices of watermelon?"

Hermione nodded, watching the woman work as she bustled around the kitchen. Breinda was 30 and had the self-possessed air of a woman, next to which Hermione felt herself to be an awkward child.

"How long have you been working for the Malfoys?" Hermione asked as Breinda placed three long, succulent slices of watermelon onto a plate before her.

"Since I was a little girl." The woman informed her. "I think I must have been 8 or 9 at the time, although I was a little malnourished when they took me in so I looked younger."

"Took you in?"

"Well, yes, of course." Breinda pulled open the oven and brought out a crisp loaf from which a few slices had already been cut. "I was living on the streets when Narcissa recognised me and you know the rest."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't," she admitted. "I had no idea."

"Oh, I thought Draco must have told you. You are friends at school, after all. He talks about you an awful lot, that boy."

Hermione bit her lip. There was no real way to respond to that. Yes, they had been friends but only for their final year and a half. Even then, they were hardly the type of people to swap stories of their youth - instead they tested each other's knowledge before exams as though they were a set of sharpening stones for a blade.

"Well, I was the youngest child of one of the premier families here in Spain. They were a little like your Blacks are over there, only of course here we aren't quite so egalitarian. A little more… feudal? Is that the right word?"

Hermione spread a thin layer of butter over her bread and took a bite. It was heaven. Her eyes slid shut as Breinda continued talking.

"So, I was the pampered little princess of one of the most prestigious families. My father made calls on the King and I played regularly with Cissy, Bella and Andromeda when the Blacks visited on their diplomatic missions - you must know Narcissa's family worked very hard to maintain Britain's links with the rest of the Wizarding world?"

Hermione turned white at the mention of Bellatrix and she stopped eating, dropping the bread back down on her small plate. Fear gripped her throat as she tried to swallow.

"Anyway, I wouldn't say I had close friends but I knew the girls. They were older than me, 14, 17 and 18, I think." Breinda waited until Hermione nodded before continuing. "But it became clear I was a… what is the English word? A Squib? It became clear I was a Squib when I was 8 and so the family threw me out."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, pushing her own trauma far down. "What do you mean?"

"They cast me out. They didn't want me anymore. Oh, don't look like that, dear. Good riddance I say. I lived on the streets for a few weeks, stealing food and begging for coin, when I saw Narcissa. It was early winter so I almost thought I was hallucinating when I saw her but that beautiful blonde hair didn't disappear so I chased after her."

"I didn't really have a plan, I just wanted a few coins - something to help me survive. But as soon as Narcissa recognised me she dragged me to her father. Cygnus was a kind man, that one, he had to be with the size of his family! Always with the cousins Sirius and Regulus underfoot too; Sirius at odds with Bella over any little thing, Regulus dragging Dromeda out from hiding in her room- The children were constantly bickering, and their mother!" Breinda looked fervently around the room as though she were going to be caught by Mrs. Black at any moment.

"But Cygnus took me in and fed me; they let me live here with the woman they hired from the village to take care of the property. They put me through school and once I graduated they gave me a job here. Narcissa asked for the cottage as her wedding gift."

Unattractively, Hermione's mouth was hanging open in utter disbelief. "I can't believe your family threw you out," she whispered. "How awful, especially when you didn't have magic."

"Well, exactly. I suppose if I had known how the muggle world worked, it might have been a little less dangerous but as it was I knew nothing. I kept trying to go back to the shops I knew my mother might visit - I thought if I saw her I might persuade her to let me back in. But of course none of the doors would open for me without magic."

Hermione could feel tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. "That's just… awful."

"There, there." Breinda chucked her under the chin with a wide grin. "It all worked out in the end. Try to have another bite of this bread before you go upstairs, you're getting far too skinny."

Obeying, Hermione took another bite of the freshly made loaf, savoring the rich, sweet-cream butter she had spread over the top. Knowing Breinda's story had comforted her in some strange way - she had never really thought of the Malfoys as having any sympathy for those outside of their family and yet Narcissa had convinced her own family to take in a young homeless girl and cared for her for years after the fact. It eased her worries about staying in "the Cottage" with them.

Technically, she knew that what she and Severus were doing wasn't exactly legal. They were, quite literally, running from the law. Or, rather, she and the Malfoy's were carrying Severus away from the law - her husband was only conscious for a few hours each day, could barely speak, and had trouble breathing. The Spanish Healers whom Malfoy had employed indicated that with enough bedrest, soothing pain relievers, and time, all would be well. Hermione had hesitated on contacting Esma, not wanting to put her new friends in a delicate position with the Wizengamot.

"Morning Granger," Draco drawled, pulling out the chair next to her and helping himself to a slice of bread from her plate. His hair was somehow still stylish, even when he'd just dragged himself out of bed.

"Snape," she reminded him, rolling her eyes.

"Habit. Can't expect me to change the habit of a lifetime just because you went and got married, can you?"

She narrowed her eyes as he flashed her a characteristic Malfoy smirk.

"I just wanted to say, Granger, that I am terribly thankful you came along to rescue me."

"I didn't do anything," Hermione pointed out, her expression pained at the memory of Bella's insane smile. She tamped it down before it had a chance to fester. "Severus did it all."

"Severus and my father are obligated to help me. They are family. You were not. Therefore," Draco drummed his fingers on the table and grinned up at her. "You are the only one that deserves thanks."

"Oh, really?" Hermione pushed at his shoulder in an effort to relieve the tension. "You're letting me stay here, away from Wizarding Britain - that's thanks enough after the month I've had. The cottage is beautiful - has it been in the family long?"

"Generations beyond measure," Draco shrugged. "It's a Black residence really. My father received it as a wedding present from his father in law. It will go to whichever lucky witch ends up with the Malfoy name next, of course."

With a debonair wink, Draco wiggled his eyebrows at the door leading to the pool.

He was far more cocky today than he had been the previous week and Hermione was glad to have a bit of her arrogant friend back. Since his parents had returned to England to face their wizarding trials, he had been sullen and depressed. "Good news?" she asked, tapping her fingers against his letter.

Before he could reply, he took a large bite from the only remaining bread Hermione had.

"Outstanding." He clapped her on the back and winked at Breinda as she brought him a plate of his own piled high with bread and fruit. "Turns out that for the week before the war my father was helping old Severus find all sorts of dark artifacts from the Dark Lord's personal history."

"He was what?" Hermione yelped.

"Apparently these momentos were cursed to help bring back the Dark- Granger, where are you going?"

Hermione ignored him, pushing all of her energy into her pumping legs and her tight fists, forcing herself up through the labyrinth that was the Cottage, her anger fuelling her as she stalked through the hallways to where her husband was resting.

"You lied," she snarled as she forced the door to Severus' room open with such force that it hit the wall.

"Good morning, Hermione, he whispered, wincing. "May I ask why I am being accosted at such an early hour?"

"You lied to me." Despite her anger, the witch was embarrassed to feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes at Severus' seeming betrayal of her trust. She blinked, trying to let her anger wipe them away. "You said you were helping Fred and George when really you were out galavanting through the English countryside with Malfoy Senior."

Severus lifted an eyebrow in response to her accusation. "And where have you heard such things?" He asked, his tone perfectly calm and altogether too innocent sounding.

"Don't." Hermione flicked an errant tear away from her eye as she stood her ground. "Just… don't. I can't believe I trusted you when you said you would stay safe." Her voice broke when her emotions could no longer be controlled as thoughts of Severus in danger rushed through her mind. . "It was the only way I could function, knowing you were safe somewhere, off the front lines - and instead you were smuggling bits of Voldemort's soul around with a half-reformed Death Eater."

Severus' eyes widened as he studied the witch who appeared to be doing everything possible to hold herself together, even if she wasn't being very successful. "Hermione," he kept his voice calm, though it pained him to speak at all. "We couldn't tell anyone. Dumbledore knew I had a plan but only I and Lucius knew how to execute it. As soon as you let slip the word Horcrux on the train, I knew how he had come back last time and I damned well wasn't going to suffer through that again. The world is a better place rid of that man."

She stared at him sullenly.

"So, Lucius and I compiled a list of the possible vessels. Some were easy to retrieve - the Black family vault is the only one Bella is allowed now that she's been to Azkaban so Cissy dipped in and retrieved a cup for us. Hogwarts was more than willing to give the headmaster a suspicious diadem, which we destroyed neatly alongside a ring Dumbledore had found last year." Severus peered at her over his fingers, where he was counting the number of victories he and Lucius had somehow, through luck, long years of service, and hard-work, managed to win over the Dark Lord. "Lucius figured out where the last piece was - a locket. Some were a little harder to find than others, but in the end we retrieved them all."

Her jaw was still tightly clenched and Severus longed to pull her into his arms and whisper his secret to her but his voice was fading in and out from use. This was the most he'd spoken since the attack and each syllable felt like fire in his throat the longer he spoke.

Turning from her, he took a long pull from a chilled water glass by his bed.

"I'm sorry," she flopped into the reading chair on the left hand side of his bed as her anger deflated. "It's hard, thinking of you in danger."

"I had similar troubles." He hoped she would understand even as the words were forced out despite the pain searing his throat. He'd been worried sick about her, camped out in the woods, hoping the Ministry and the Death Eaters wouldn't find them first. It had made his usual broken sleep even more unbearable. If he hadn't known already that he was completely besotted with her, he certainly would have realised it when found himself daydreaming up mad scenarios where, a few years after the war, she discovered what he'd done to help defeat the Dark Lord and visited his grave every year or hung a portrait of him in the house. Something, anything to remember him by.

The fact that he was alive following a war he never thought to survive somehow paled in comparison to the fact that his witch was cross with him over his actions over the past few weeks to help them win the war. The thought twisted in his heart.

"It was foolish," she admonished as she carded her fingers through his fine, black hair. "And brave, so very, very brave."

He gave an attempt at a scathing look but didn't reply. For a few moments he let himself luxuriate in the feel of her nails against his scalp. It was so peaceful to rest in her presence although he could feel his consciousness slipping even now, back into the dream-like fog he had been enduring since the battle.

"Granger, Snape." Draco nodded at both of them as he opened the door. "You left so quickly at breakfast that I didn't get to tell you my good news. My parents are both free. They'll be coming back tomorrow - it was the fastest father could get an international portkey."

Springing up from the chair next to Severus' bed, Hermione enveloped Draco in a hug. "That's wonderful! Now I'll be able to thank them in person for letting us stay here." Severus' eyes narrowed at the sight of his witch wrapped around another wizard and a bitter taste seemed to rise in his throat, although it was not because his wife embraced Draco, moreso the warm flush that filled the boy's face as he encircled her in his arms. After a brief moment she pulled away. "What about Severus?"

"My godfather is a free man, even though he didn't attend his own trial." Draco smirked at the Potions Master, now prone on the bed. Severus couldn't smile back. "My parents have the best lawyers in the business - the case the Wizengamot prosecutor put together didn't stand a chance."

Severus' eyes fluttered as he felt sleep trying to claim him once more. It could've been the massive dose of pain potions coupled with the cocktail of other potions which had been prescribed by the healers, but had someone asked him to, he would've put money on his godson harboring less than platonic feelings for his wife. Could it really be helped? They spent so much time together during Severus' convalescence, caring for him and keeping each other company.

"Speaking of which." Hermione asked, turning to Malfoy. "Did you happen to get any books with your owl this morning?" He nodded, and from one pocket pulled a shrunken brown parcel. She barely gave him time to return it to its original size before she grabbed at it, running reverent fingers over the paper and filling the chamber with a satisfying crinkling.

"You know," Draco mused with a cheeky grin, "you should be careful, witch. They'll be able to track you down through the massive quantities of books being ordered to the south of Spain soon enough."

Mrs. Snape grinned at the half-jibe and ripped open the brown paper just as Severus finally lost his grip on consciousness.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

Severus woke much later in the day, a few hours after noon judging by the position of the sunlight streaming in through his window. Hermione and Draco were both still there, having taken up almost permanent residence in chairs on either side of his bed. Draco, Severus noticed, had his head bowed over a book and despite the appearance that he was reading, his eyes would periodically drift over to the muggle-born witch opposite of where he was currently sitting. Severus rolled his eyes.

Despite his annoyance with Draco for not-so-secretly admiring _his_ witch, Severus finally allowed himself to take a peek at her as well. She was a riot of curls as her quill rapidly scratched across a roll of parchment in her typical style of furious note-taking, her hair seeing to move and shake of its own accord with each stroke of the quill. There was a smudge of purple ink across one of her cheeks but it only made her more beautiful in his eyes. It was as though the imperfection merely clarified just how glorious she was.

As if she could feel the weight of his gaze, she paused in her studies and caught his eye. Any worries he might have had about his godson were eased when a smile bloomed over his wife's lips and the apples of her cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink as their eyes met. He was married to this witch, there was no way Draco could trump that.

"Hi," she whispered as she set the quill and parchment down upon her lap.

He inclined his head towards her, admiring the rosy color of her cheeks.

"Did we wake you?" While her speaking volume had returned to normal, his witch was clearly studying him for any sign of pain, tightness, or irritation, her eyes flitting over him rapidly before making eye contact once more.

"No," he replied. He took a sip from the magically cooled glass which permanently sat on the bedside table. "No, I don't think so."

"I was just trying to tempt Granger outside, get some sun." Draco added a bit too cheerfully for Severus taste and he noted the boy's ears were turning pink. The feeling in Severus' stomach returned, bitter and hard.

She rolled her eyes and locked a hardened gaze on Draco. " _Snape,_ " she emphasised. "It's hard to believe you were ever close to top of your class."

"Granger," Draco drawled. "I was top of every class you weren't in and some you were."

Severus was, once again, reminded of his age when he realised how much the adolescent posturing wearied him. He dropped back onto the pillows, taking several steadying breaths as he was reminded that, though he was married to the witch, it was hardly because she had said she wanted to be his wife. He had accepted her proposal to escape a marriage to Bellatrix, though he probably would have accepted a marriage to a random witch off of the street than be married to that absolute loon.

As loathe as he was to push them together, he wasn't sure how much longer he could abide their flirting. Compared to Draco, it was abundantly clear to Severus that twenty years of life experience had left him battered and ugly where as Draco possessed the vibrancy of youth. It didn't help that his godson had inherited the best features of his parents and had grown up to be a handsome young man. A handsome, monied young man.

Not that Severus had ever had much chance in the looks department to start with given his own lineage.

"You should go," he told Hermione, clenching his hand into a fist to stop from reaching to tug on a stray curl which had fallen over her shoulder. "It will do you some good to get some fresh sea air. We can't both atrophy."

Hermione studied him for a second, a small line appearing between her brows before nodding. "It might be good to give you some time to rest, I suppose." Her reluctance to leave him was clear, though she tucked her giant book into her bag.

"You won't need that!" Draco laughed, ensuring her bag remained firmly on the ground near the chair.. "We're taking a short walk, no reading allowed."

Hermione, with a little laugh that jangled against Severus' nerves, accepted Draco's outstretched hand and tugged on it as she rose. "Alright, Severus. We'll be back soon."

She waved to him as Draco practically pulled her out of the guest room and Severus felt his heart wrench painfully in his chest.

Draco Malfoy was one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain. He came from good stock, had an excellent reputation, scored nearly as many N.E.W.T.s as Hermione and, on top of all that, he was handsome and could charm the goblin-forged tiara off of the head of the most stubborn pure-blooded matriarch if he put his mind to it. He could buy Hermione all the first editions and rare texts she could ever dream of, portkey her to any number of conferences, museums, or galas, and set up meetings with any government official she needed to speak to about any cause near and dear to her heart - assuming of course that the Malfoy name would bounce back. It had a habit of remaining incredibly durable despite the less-than-pure habits of that house.

Severus Snape was not eligible. If his status a a known Death Eater and practitioner of the Dark Arts didn't discount him, then the fact that he was the son of a muggle and a disgraced pureblood witch certainly did. While he was an adequate brewer and was generally considered intelligent, he was ugly as sin. What Severus knew about the current fashions and topics of conversation could be written on a postcard and, what's more, he could offer her only a mouldy two bed terrace in one of the ugliest areas on the planet.

The comparison between his own home in Spinner's End and The Cottage made Severus feel physically ill. This wasn't even their main house for Merlin's sake.

It wasn't as though Lucius and Narcissa would disapprove of an out-of-wedlock dalliance, unless it was for Severus' sake. Extramarital relationships were common in the Wizarding World, where witches and wizards often married young, couldn't separate, and were still considered rather young and spry well into their 70s. As long as Draco didn't marry the chit his parents would be supportive, especially since there was no chance at the two of them exchanging vows since she was already married.

The thought calmed him a little and he realised he had been spiralling into a well of bitter, jealous thoughts which bordered on the edge of paranoia. Hermione was married to him. He could allow her a boyfriend, couldn't he? The way his heart thudded painfully against the wall of his chest reminded him that he had never been one for casual vows and when he loved, he loved deeply. This might ruin him. But if it made his wife happy and she came back to him at the end of the day, would it really matter?

Experimentally, he released his Occlumency shields and visualised what that future might bring. Hermione would saunter into their home with a smile on her face, clutching another first edition to be added to their already overflowing shelves, though her smile would fade as she frowned at the state of their home, mentally comparing it to Malfoy Manor. The possibilities evolved before him playing through his mind like vivid memories in a pensieve. Eventually, the Hermione in his mind moved out of their shabby, little home and into a grand London flat in the heart of the city which Draco had purchased outright for his mistress specifically because it was near both the wizarding and muggle branches of the British Library, a place where he could meet her at any time of day or night and charm her into a glittering dinner out.

Why would she ever want stay with him when Draco could offer her so much more? The disparity between what he and his godson would be able to offer the witch was too painful to think about, twisting his stomach into knots.

Cursing, he flung himself out of his thoughts and back into the room, forcing himself to focus his eyes upon a painting so he wouldn't become consumed with his own shortcomings. If the witch chose to live without him, he would tolerate it. Although he would make certain that they still saw each other - even if it was only for Friday night dinners where he cooked for her, or something like that. A ritual. Something that would make the void that stretched before him meaningful. Severus needed some way of seeing her to make his life worth living. She had been a balm for his lonely heart and he couldn't bear to imagine a future without her.

His Occlumency shields repaired themselves, slowing building up around his mind. The rapid pants of his breath slowed to a normal steady rhythm over the next minute and he felt some of the tension release. He took another sip from the cool glass, feeling the relief against his neck.

It was as he placed it back that he saw the book peeking out from Hermione's bag. A heavy, brown leather tome with embossed golden letters spelling out the title. He stood on shaky legs. His muscles were weak after the week of enforced bedrest, but he refused to give in to such base needs as rest. He clawed at the book, tossing it onto the bed with a gesture that took far more effort than he anticipated. With relief, he followed it and slipped once more under the covers. That had been far more taxing than he had expected.

He flipped the book right-side-up to check the title.

" _British_ _Wizarding Laws in the 21st Century - A Guide For The Muggleborn_ "

An odd choice. Why would Malfoy be smuggling Hermione books on the law?

Severus slid a nail between the pages where a ragged piece of parchment marked her place and cracked open the book, ignoring the anxiety pooling in his stomach before he even had a chance to read a word on the page.

It was a testament to how much his worry was driving him that he didn't even pause to take the compelling scent of knowledge at his fingertips, as he usually did, lifting a book to his nose to take in it's unique scent before reading. Instead, he flipped over the scrap of parchment, expecting some sort of hand-written notes on whatever the page entailed. He knew his witch's proclivity for jotting notes on the nearest bit of parchment: but it was blank. Curious, he began to read - and it was like someone had cast a _Reducto_ on his heart.

The chapter Hermione had marked, the one she was so diligently taking notes on, was entitled " _The Wizarding World and Divorce - The Current State._ "

Despite the fact that his hands curled into involuntary fists and he found his entire body shaking, it was the salty tears which formed in the corners of his eyes which frustrated him the most. He'd known all along that their marriage was a sham, a convenience but in truth, he'd been comforted by the fact that the witch had been bound to him, even if he'd known she'd never truly be his.

The searing pain in his lungs made him feel like he was drowning, as if the crushing pain of his emotions wasn't enough.

Was she so disgusted by him that she planned to completely change hundreds, if not thousands, of years of tradition? Did she find him so revolting that she felt she needed to bring a case before the Wizengamot to legally divorce him, something that simply wasn't done within their world? She would publicly shame him, but she had a chance at being free. The part that completely ripped at his soul was that she was brilliant enough to succeed, especially if she capitalised on the hard fought final battle and the fame which would, no doubt, follow on after her.

Fuck.


	22. Chapter 22: Resolution

"You don't understand, Draco. You didn't see his face. He was furious." Hermione poked at her semolina, making lazy circles in the thick liquid.

"It's only been three days," Draco observed, his spoon waving through the air as he spoke. "Surely, he will have calmed down by now."

She slumped onto the table with her head bowed. Breinda patted her on the shoulder and took away the full bowl before Hermione's hair could befriend the breakfast. "You need to eat something," she reminded the girl, who had barely touched any of the food offered to her in the past few days. "Perhaps some grapes will tempt you."

The housekeeper placed a bright coloured plate heaped with grapes in front of the heartsick witch. Draco, uncharacteristically, kept his hands off the food piled up before him. Even he was concerned by her appetite-loss. She was clearly worried about the cantankerous former Potions Master camped out upstairs but ever since their argument Severus hadn't allowed anyone save for Lucius access to his rooms.

Well, Lucius and a house elf, once Lucius refused to ferry meals to Severus' bedside any longer. The blonde wizard clearly thought Severus' sulk unmanly, but even he would hesitate to say anything of the sort to his friend. Not yet. He valued his life.

Narcissa sailed airily into the kitchen just as Draco begged Hermione to join him outside. He had tried in vain every morning to coax her into the sunlight, and the words felt wooden and rote on his lips. "Come on, Hermione. Let's go for a walk. See if the sun won't cheer you up a little."

"Yes, Mrs. Snape. The air is wonderful this time of year," Narcissa agreed, her gentle, musical voice seeming to fill the room.

Hermione didn't reply, didn't even lift her eyes from the plate.

It hurt Draco to see her like this, with her hair hanging lank on either side of her face and her face ashen, which was why he was about to do the first truly selfless act he had ever committed. Beard the dragon in its den. Or rather, beard the Potion's Master in his sick bed.

He grabbed a grape and made a show of enjoying it, tossing it into the air and catching it between his teeth. Then he bit into the juicy fruit, his eyes fluttering as he savoured the flavour of what might well be his last meal. Not that he really thought Severus would harm him...

"See, Granger, not poisoned," he teased, flouncing from the room like a proper pureblood aristocrat. With a shake of her head at his absurdity, Hermione reluctantly plucked a grape from the nearby plate and nibbled on it as he left.

"Thank you for letting us stay here, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione blinked up at the stately witch, once again overwhelmed by how much more like a model Narcissa looked, with her stick-thin frame and angular cheekbones. Hermione could never hope to compare.

"Oh, of course, dear. Severus is an old family friend but after what you did for Draco," the older woman paused to blink tears from her eyes before continuing. "Let's just say that my family are forever in your debt."

Hermione stood in a tangle of limbs, desperate to straighten out the truth of what had happened during the rescue mission. Everyone kept thanking her, but without Severus... "No, I didn't-" she started, "it was Severus..." It had all been Severus and Lucius, the most Hermione had managed to do was get caught!

She couldn't stem the flow of tears.

"Why are you crying, my dear?" Narcissa placed a hand on Hermione's chin and lifted her face up as if to study it. She ran an elegant, cold thumb over the tear tracks on Hermione's cheeks. "Is it because Severus is still being a beast?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, he just… I'm just worried about him," she hedged as Breinda placed a freshly cooked pastry onto the table near Narcissa.

Narcissa smiled in a motherly way and tapped the girl under the chin. "Not to worry, dear. He always gets a bit defensive when his feelings are involved. I'm sure he'll come around shortly."

Hermione bit her lip, twisting her fingers into knots. She hoped that Narcissa was right, she couldn't bear being unable to speak with Severus.

"Here, Hermione," she said, interrupting the girl's thoughts to push the plate towards her. "Do you mind if I call you Hermione? No? Good. Here, eat this." The elegant witch gestured towards the pastry. "They're very good, a sort of chocolate swirl and buttery bread mixture that makes me want to swoon."

Hermione stared down at the pastry.

Then, with a glacial smile, Narcissa swept from the kitchen, accepting the cup of espresso from Breinda's hands as she sailed past.

As Hermione watched Narcissa leave the room, she couldn't help but make a hundred comparisons between herself and the witch. It was easy to see her own deficiencies when compared with that shining example of model-thin womanhood. With a heavy sigh, and a mouthful of the much lauded pastry, Hermione burrowed her head into her arms, her frizzy mop of hair drowning the table in a halo of curls.

...

Draco wiped his hand down the leg of his trousers to rid himself of the sweat-slick feeling as he stood before the door to Severus' room. This was the man who'd protected him his entire life, he reminded himself. The worst that would happen was that Severus would be angry.

Still, an angry Severus could be difficult to deal with.

He tapped on the door lightly.

"Come in." While his voice still had the rough quality of gravel and lacked it's normal intensity, Severus still managed to bark the order. He felt rather pleased with the amount his voice had improved, and itched to experiment with potions to bring it back its full glory. He needed something to look forward to. His wife was trying to leave him, for Merlin's sake. He felt he deserved a bit of a sulk - even if their marriage was little more than a formality. He'd gone and lost his bloody heart to the chit, just after she saved his bloody life… And, as ever, Severus wasn't allowed to keep what he wanted.

Draco pushed open the door but stayed decidedly in the corridor.

"Ah, my godson. How lovely to see you." The acidic displeasure which dripped from every word made the young man shiver.

"Severus. I was wondering if I might have a word."

"We have already had several," Severus waved his hand to slam the door, but Draco managed to lunge forward and wedge his shoe between the heavy bit of wood and the frame. Feeling rather benevolent, Severus stopped the blast of movement just before the door collided with his godson's foot. The boy was awfully wingey when in pain.

"What?"

"You're hurting her, you know?" Draco pushed into the room and closed the door himself, emboldened by Severus' churlish behaviour. He combed a hand through his silver locks and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. "She's barely eaten since you refused to see her, pining away like some kind of romance heroine. I swear she's already losing weight."

Severus gave him a withering look. Draco's theatrics were unwelcome.

"I'm serious!" Draco slammed the palm of his hand against the door. "She won't leave her room unless it's to go to the kitchen. She won't read."

"She won't read?" Severus asked, frowning. Seeing her curled up in a chair with a book in the early morning in what she had taken to calling her 'Snape jumper' had been the way he'd woken in their first few days at the cottage. She'd been worried about the light the jumper put off and he'd helped her with the charm dimmed it, so she could remain in his room without it waking or bothering him. Not that he minded when she woke him, when the first thing he saw in the morning was her, her eyes focussed on a page, her hands wrapped around its covers.

He had thought he'd be halfway to a divorced man by now but if the chit wasn't researching… His eyes widened, though he quickly narrowed them at his godson. "What do you mean she isn't eating?"

"She refuses almost everything Breinda or I put in front of her unless it's a small nibble to keep us quiet. A bite of bread here. A grape there. That's it. I honestly don't know how she's still standing with as little as she's eaten."

With a groan, Severus heaved himself upright. He had given up the field to the dashing bachelor who was currently pacing back and forth along the wall of his room and while he didn't exactly like the idea of letting the two of them pursue their own little romance, he knew she would be happier for it. At least they could do it in private and he wouldn't have to be privy to their indiscretions. Unfortunately, it appeared his godson was incapable of rationalising with a woman who possessed one of the most brilliant minds of her age.

He would make her eat again; it was the least he could do.

"Be careful," Draco warned, turning on his heel and marching off. Severus wondered whether the boy was referring to his present health or the conversation he was about to have with his wife.

...

Fifteen minutes later, Severus finally managed the stairs and made his way to the kitchen, hoping against hope that she'd still be there. He had no idea where her rooms were and he doubted Breinda would tell him after the way he'd treated his wife. It was a small silver lining of this whole mess that at least she and Hermione were getting along.

Hermione was still slumped on the breakfast bar, her forehead pressed against the table and her eyes staring sightlessly into the wood when he entered the kitchen.

"Oh, my. Mr. Snape!" Breinda exclaimed at the sight of him. "How good to see you on your feet."

At the sound of his name, his wife seemed to curl in over herself, her shoulders slumping even further. Severus winced. Had the boy been wrong? Was he unwelcome here?

The housekeeper hurried over to him and hovered by his shoulder ensuring she would be on hand incase he fell or needed further assistance. "Were you feeling peckish? There's a bowl of fresh grapes on the table over there."

Thanking her, he took a seat opposite Hermione and studied his wife. Her hair was very nearly as lank as his own and the pallor of her skin could make a ghost envious. Draco had been right, she had lost something - perhaps not weight but it was like the spark behind her eyes had been extinguished.

He placed hesitant fingers on to the back of her hand.

"Hello," he said it as kindly as he could, but the injury he sustained still twisted into a growl.

"Hello Severus," she muttered back, before pulling herself into a sitting position, her eyes locked onto the varnished wood. She looked so guarded, so hurt, that Severus' heart nearly tore in two. He kicked himself for being a miserable, antisocial pillock for the last three days and refusing to see her. Had he continued to let her in, he might have been able to manage this - whatever _this_ was.

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

She blinked and then looked down at her lap. "I'm alright," she said in a small voice. "Been better."

This much sadness could not possibly be caused by their short argument, he realised. She had been the one trying to divorce him so his anger should have had little bearing on her mood. She must have been hit by something, some stray hex or curse during the battle.

He cast a wandless diagnostic charm. Hermione started as a cold breeze brushed against her skin, but nothing obvious presented itself to Severus in the runes materialized in the air.

"What are you doing?" Breinda asked, folding her arms over her chest. "Are you trying to see if she's sick? Of course she is, you cabrón, she's been arguing with her partner and _he_ is refusing to see her."

"That can't be it," he refuted as he cast another more comprehensive diagnostic charm. The effort left him exhausted, his magical reserves empty. It, too, came back negative. "This can't be my fault."

"It isn't." Hermione's voice cracked. "It's mine."

Severus' heart seemed to stop in his chest. How in Merlin's name could this be her fault? He barely sputtered out a response. "What?"

"I am sorry, Severus." Apologies seemed to come so easy for his wife. She took a shuddering breath and he willed himself to fill the silence with his own. His throat caught and before he could force the words out, she had continued, "I wanted to be sure of something before I brought it to you. I didn't mean to lie."

Tears glimmered on her lashes and he watched, captivated, as one shook itself free and landed on the wooden table. He shook his head, confused, but Hermione didn't catch the gesture.

"I can only imagine how frustrated you must be all the time, when your life is on the line and everyone is keeping things from you. I didn't want to be one of those people; but I also didn't want to dangle your freedom in front of you if I didn't have a chance in hell of achieving it."

"My freedom?" He asked, his throat tight. She had been thinking of him when she'd been researching this damned law? She thought he wanted to be free of her? From their marriage?

"Of course." She jerked upright with a shuddering breath. There was no doubt why Draco had been so worried about her now that she faced him, smoothing her hair behind her ears. Her eyes stared at him from deep, cavernous pits. "I know you've been refusing to read the news."

Of course he had. After years, decades even, of knowing that his survival was dependent on keeping up to date with what the papers knew, he was enjoying the freedom of ignoring them and the tosh they reported entirely. Draco had kept him updated on the only thing that mattered, the Malfoy trials, and Severus had no desire to know what was happening with the rest of the Death Eaters; his former comrades, people whom he had tortured, and those who had tortured him in turn.

Except Bellatrix. Draco kept him informed of exactly how her trial was going. Severus had several nasty things planned for that one if she ever took a step outside of Azkaban, none of which could be traced to him or the boy.

Pushing her hair back from her face, Hermione continued with her explanation. "The Ministry refuse to repeal the Marriage Law."

He grunted noncommittally. He hadn't even given it a moment's thought. He had expected that bureaucratic nightmare to take its time doing anything about the chaos it had inherited.

"They have pushed back the deadline to run down the aisle with a pureblood partner, but only by another 6 months. Already people are pulling their children out of Hogwarts in order to have them marry respectable purebloods, Severus! I have exchanged letters with Shacklebolt a few times but it seems to be out of his considerable political power to resolve. Hundreds of people were suffering or will suffer because of this. I couldn't just stand by."

Suddenly, Severus felt everything slip into place. How he could ever have thought his wife would do anything self-serving, he didn't know. She sacrificed so much for others, from the first moment she had arrived from Hogwarts and up through the last war she had been a shining beacon of self-sacrifice and duty.

"And me?" He asked, scarcely believing the words were falling from his lips. Something in him twisted and he held on to a tiny sliver of hope that he wouldn't be left alone in his silent bedroom, left to brood.

"I wanted you to be free.," she admitted, tilting her head slightly. "You have done so much for us, for all of us. It isn't fair to bind you in yet another vow. Once I have persuaded the Ministry to repeal the law, I will help all those forced into uncomfortable marriages to divorce. I hadn't planned a career in law, but it certainly plays to my strengths." Her smile was timid and twisted and lacked one of the pretty blushes he was so accustomed to. Severus cursed himself again for a fool, furious with himself for upsetting the witch. He wanted to draw her against his chest and dry those tears, brush his hands through her hair and tell her the secret that had been dancing on his heart for the past week.

Instead, he merely cleared his throat. "Our marriage is not uncomfortable."

"No," she said, her smile widening a fraction. "Nonetheless, it is unfair to keep you when you could go find someone you prefer."

The way that her eyes turned morose as she spoke triggered something in Severus, a protective instinct he had long since thought to have thrown away.

"Hermione Snape," he snapped. "You are insufferable, nosy, and you never rest for even a second."

Her eyes widened and that hint of a smile fell from her lips. He could bear it only for a moment before continuing to speak.

" _If_ you are unhappy with our marriage and _if_ you manage to persuade the Ministry then bring me papers and I will sign them without a fight." His voice gentled. "But if at that time there is even the slightest chance that you have grown fond of me… could grow fond of me…"

He stopped, hesitant to throw himself once again into her debt. Tears glittered on her cheeks, and Severus winced. He _had_ misread the situation.

"Severus," she breathed, and he prepared himself for her rejection. "Severus." She bit her lip. "I can't possibly grow any more fond of you than I already have."

He worried at the phrase, poking it with his tongue like a sore tooth. Did she mean that he was unlovable or that she cared for him? Was it even possible that she could love him?

The question was answered when she slipped from the chair and moved around the table, standing before him. Severus saw a bustle of skirts rapidly escape the kitchen and realised that the two of them had managed to scare Breinda away from her own domain. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Severus Snape, you have been nothing but understanding, patient and… and open with me. You have the driest wit and can make me chuckle even during very serious situations and conversations. You have an impeccable sense of style." Severus snorted, and Hermione ignored him. Her words were igniting something in his chest, something that sparked and flared and made Severus feel uncomfortably, wonderfully warm.

"Your choice in literature easily mirrors my own," Hermione continued, "and above even all of that, you are incredibly strong. For heaven's sake, you faced down a Dark Lord with nothing more than your voice to save _me_." She smiled, and this one seemed a little less sad, a little more open. "Of course, we'll have no more of this silent treatment, I could barely function. But, as long as we both approach this like adults..."

She took a deep breath, apparently struggling to decide what to say next.

"I'm not a pleasant man," he warned, interrupting. "You have an innate innocence to you, a way of seeing the best of every situation. I don't have that. No doubt you will tire of my negativity, become frustrated with my wit."

"Never," she swore, the spark returning to her eyes like the flicker of a candle. Her voice grew lower, seductive. "What if I don't want a good man?"

"What on earth would you do with a bad man?" He asked, forcing his voice to match her tone.

She giggled and Severus was far more relieved to see the blush return to her cheeks than he was comfortable admitting. "Take revenge on Molly, of course," she said, her eyes wide and perfect. "I need a particularly clever and wicked man for that."

"Oh, is that all?" He asked, brushing the backs of her hands with his fingertips.

"I can think of a few other uses for you," she said, leaning down to kiss him. "But we have a few months until I get the Ministry to pay attention to sense... perhaps my creativity will run out."

"Witch, I've seen you write seven pages on the effects of rosemary in Burn Salve. You have one of the best imaginations in the world."

Hermione shrugged. "Do you know, you promised me a library and I haven't even seen it yet. I thought you were a man of your word."

He growled at her and clutched her close, his arms wrapping around her slight frame as he tugged her down into his lap. "I knew you were just in it for the books." He teased, feathering a kiss against her temple.

She snuggled into him, snatching a grape with her free hand while she did so.

"And the wedding gifts," she reminded him, swallowing.

"And the cooking."

"And the potions tutoring." In between each word, she kissed his collarbone over his shirt, moving up towards his neck. He felt like putty beneath her hands.

"And the amazing taste in holiday cottages," he said, his voice breaking as she reached his collar and whispered her lips over onto his skin.

"And the lips." He shivered with pleasure when her lips ghosted across his neck. It was almost too much. "You have the most sensual lips."

"If you say so, witch." He buried his hands in her hair and guided her lips to his. She broke free, breathing hard against his chest.

"Severus," she began, stroking his arms with her hands. "I wasn't clear before. I am going to finish battling for divorce even if they never repeal the law. There are so many wizards and witches trapped in loveless marriages. I can't imagine how awful it must be."

The Potions Master felt a strong emotion bubble up in his chest. She couldn't imagine a loveless marriage… which meant she loved him. She'd been willing to let him go, even though she'd been quite fond of him, in order to make sure he was free to make the choice.

"Hermione." He pressed a finger underneath her chin and studied those big, hazel eyes that seemed to shift in colour from one moment to the next, from brown to hazel to a soft amber. She swallowed against his finger. Reverently, he placed another kiss upon her lips and told her the secret he'd been threatening to spill since she had rushed to his side during the final battle. "I love you too."

It was as if she possessed one thousand arms the way she was wrapping herself around him, dragging him to her chest as though they were drowning. As her lips fervently moved against his own, Severus was mesmerised by the softness of her skin. It left him desperate to feel more of her. He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, pressing his palm against her lower back as his other hand wound through her curls, fingernails scraping gently against her scalp.

A loud cough interrupted them and they tore apart like nervous teenagers. "Not in my kitchen, thank you." Breinda said, having returned with a large mop and looking as though she was determined to use the bloody thing to do things other than clean the floors.

Severus grinned and loosened his grip on the witch in his lap, allowing her lean against the table, panting.

She was his. She was truly, truly his. It was beyond belief.

"Come along, witch," he threaded his fingers with Hermione's. "I've got a library to show you."

Fin

* * *

 **AN:** This is The End. There will be a short epilogue posted hopefully next week, so we can enjoy our HEA, and I will save the teary goodbye for that.  
But know that you, whoever you are, are the reason I got through this beautiful, long story. Without Lyra it wouldn't be as beautiful, without Vix it wouldn't be done happily, but without you, dear Reader, I'm not sure I would have finished it at all. Have an amazing week, and see you Saturday.

Anj


	23. Chapter 23: Happily Ever After

"Severus," Hermione laughed, attempting to ward off his kisses on her neck without dropping the pan. "I can't- Come on, we have important guests coming."

"You know Nick and Esma adore you, they aren't going to say no just because you burn the sauce."

"I'm not going to burn the sauce just because you- hey!" She protested as he gently plucked the saucepan from her hands and placed it on the stove, casting a _Statis Charm_ in the air above her.

Hermione grumbled. "Come on, Severus. This is important to me."

" _This_ is important to me." He took a few steps back to admire his witch. As she often did on Sundays, she was dressed only in an oversized t-shirt that dropped to mid thigh, a pair of knickers, and a hairband. In a lower voice, his eyes still toying with the hem of her t-shirt, he added. "You are important to me."

"Sauce," she growled, cancelling his charm with a wave of her hand and flicking her wrist to start the whisk over it.

"Are you really this nervous?" Severus' voice deepened as he became more serious.

"Last time we ate with them was at their house. The time before that we were at the Malfoy's, eating elf-made food. How can my meager cooking skills possibly compare to theirs?"

"Hey, hey." He captured her hands, which were gesticulating wildly, and pressed a kiss onto the top of each of them. "They love you. Both families are completely and utterly entranced by you, and you know it." Hermione pouted and Severus chucked her under the chin bringing her eyes back to his. "You don't always have to earn people's affection, love. It isn't always about what you can do or what you know. Sometimes they just love you because of who you are."

Severus was made aware he may have said the wrong thing because rather suddenly her eyes were watery and overflowing with tears and she was staring at him over a flushed nose. She burrowed herself into his arms, her wild, curly locks tickling his chin.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a control freak over this," she finally said through a mouthful of his shirt, her cheeks drying against his shirt. "It's just that I'm so worried. I've been working on my PortaLibrary for over a year now and it's as good as it's ever going to get, it takes only a few spells to manufacture…" She trailed off and stared at him beseechingly. "If we don't get funding tonight I'll have to go and sell to people I don't know." If Severus hadn't been a spy, he might have missed the subtle shiver of fear that chased down his wife's back, which was the only sign that something was wrong. Well, that and the tears and the frantic mess she was making of their kitchen, anyway.

"They are going to love the book." He tucked an errant curl behind her ear and tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. "They are, really."

There was a beat where she just smiled sentimentally into his eyes before it faded into a rather cheeky grin as she withdrew. "We really ought to go see my parents this weekend."

Severus groaned. He knew it was a cliche to want to avoid being trapped in the same room as one's in-laws but in his case, he rather thought he had reason. Every time he saw them he was reminded how much closer in age to Hermione's parents than he was to her. He understood the jokes and references to Muggle culture that went sailing over her head and whilst every single one was a reminder of just how lucky he was that she loved him - she loved _him_ , for Merlin's sake - they might just remind her that he was double her age.

So, he avoided reacting to her parents for the most part even though it made him look cold and uninterested. The balance was difficult to maintain and every social event where he was forced to interact with them became painfully awkward as soon as Hermione stopped talking.

The sauce began to bubble on the hob and Hermione spun back around to it, lowering the temperature with nimble fingers even while she levitated the pan a centimeter above the heat.

"It isn't that bad," he heard heard her mutter.

"What isn't?"

"Sunday dinner with mum and dad." Hermione turned her head to the side so she could see him, even as she kept most of her attention focused on the silver pan which was reflecting fluorescent lights directly into his eyes.

"I can feel them judging me every time we are in the same county," he drawled, averting his gaze so that she wouldn't see the insecurity he knew would be shining in them. She'd become scarily adept at reading his mood over the last year.

Hermione rolled her eyes and set the pan back onto the low burning fire. Checking that the sauce didn't immediately start boiling once more, she turned to face Severus. Her fingers brushed his sleeve and ran up the length of his arms, before cupping his shoulders.

"They are not judging you," she stated defying him with a weighty stare when he raised a sardonic eyebrow. "They're not."

Her tone was insistent and it held that nugget that told him she knew she was right. Reluctantly he met her gaze and inclined his head, asking the question with body language because he knew his voice would crack if he said it aloud.

"My mother met my father while they were both at university. He was the only black student in the dentistry program. My mother was-" She paused, flicking her lips with the point of her tongue before continuing. "My mother was the teaching assistant. When at first she turned him down, he started asking her for help with preparing for procedures - laying out the tools, reviewing x-rays and such. She realised he was asking her help for things he already knew… she accused him of wasting her time."

She flicked her wand to slow the whisk before continuing to speak, feeling the heavy weight of Severus' eyes on the top of her head. "He said that spending time with a beautiful woman was never a waste of time and she was charmed into a coffee date. That was all well and good but when he started the next course, he realised she was the lecturer! She wasn't 'just' a teaching assistant, she'd just been subbing in for a professor whose class load had gotten too big and who couldn't find a student to help him."

"Ah," he drawled, a smile gracing his lips. Perhaps he could tolerate seeing his inlaws for their anniversary, now that he knew that any judgement they felt towards him would be tempered somewhat by the fact they were judging him for the very thing they had once done. "So in a way, she was his teacher?"

"Exactly."

"Apparently the Grangers have a type." He stretched out the word, a smile twisting the corners of his lips as he teased her. She rolled her eyes, her fingers toying with the palm of his hand, drawing intricate designs across the delicate skin.

"You never explained it to me," she said suddenly.

"Explained what?"

"How you killed Nagini. You didn't have your wand, you didn't say anything; hell, you were looking at the Dark Lord when she lunged for you."

Severus wet his lips with the point of his tongue. "That was actually a bit of misfortune," he admitted. "A prototype charm that George, Fred and I were working on. Bottled death, in a way - a Sectumsempra carefully charmed into a button." His lips twisted wryly. "It was supposed to go off before I was bitten but I knew we hadn't had a chance to test it. I knew it might fail to go off at all… It was the only chance I had to take care of the blasted thing from right under the Dark Lord's nose. Well, what counts as a nose for him. So I took the risk."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of how close she had come to losing him, and captured a hand between her own, pressing five quick kisses against the knuckles.

Severus ran his free hand through Hermione's riotous curls and allowed himself to be distracted by the way it curled seductively around his hand. "Have you heard from Potter?" he heard himself ask, licking lips that were once again dry with desire. He needed her thinking of something other than that final battle. It wouldn't do to have her dwell on things which neither of them could change.

"Harry rang yesterday," she nodded at the mobile phone on the kitchen counter, pulling her hair free from his fingers as she did so. "Molly is still not speaking to either of them but Ginny doesn't seem too upset."

Severus and Hermione shared a secret, wicked smile. Harry and Ginny's actions had been one of the few things they hadn't orchestrated in revenge upon the Weasley matron, but they were blamed for it just the same. Just as she blamed them for the protected garden gnome colony which had taken up residence just outside of the garden at the Burrow, and the fact that the Daily Prophet had reported with glee the name of the informant that " _nearly cost the Light the war when they risked Severus Snape's life_ " as _Molly Weasley_.

Severus had taken Hermione's animosity for the Weasley matron and distilled it into sweet, cold drops of revenge, doling them out slowly over the year. It never failed to make Hermione smile knowing Molly was constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for the next explosion. Although that might also have been because Severus had persuaded the Weasley twins to take the piece of land on the other side of the Burrow to use as their experimental lab.

"Ginny found a flat about a five minute walk from Grimmauld Place," Hermione continued, turning so that she could focus on the various pots and pans before her, checking the recipe stuck to the cabinet above with a sticking charmas her hands moved busily. "But I think Harry is starting to regret asking her to move out now the baby has started to grow on him. We'll see…"

Severus waited patiently to find out what would possibly be seen , but his face cracked into a smile as he realised Hermione had gotten lost in her cooking and forgotten that she had been speaking. A habit that, in anyone else, would have infuriated the old Potions master; in Hermione it simply indicated that he was home. He snaked his arms around her body and drew her close to him, immeasurably pleased when she melted into his arms.

"Harry seems happy, though - Draco asked him on a date."

"Did he now?" Severus drawled, his face deadpan. He'd been the one to suggest the move to Draco following Potter's divorce from the Weasley chit. The boy had seemed dejected, a sad lump of black hair hovering around Severus' new flat every weekend, staring wistfully whenever Hermione and Severus so much as brushed hands. It made it hard to indulge in married life.

The boy had been lonely and he'd only ever perked up when the Malfoy heir was visiting, verbally jousting with this strange flash in his eyes.

The thoughts brought to mind how very lucky Severus had been to have Hermione in his life, and he squeezed her more tightly against his thin frame.

"You know," Severus said softly into her hair, "I think I should thank the Dark Lord."

"Whatever for?" His witch raised an eyebrow.

"If it weren't for his ridiculous scheme," Severus worked his hands slowly under the hem of her t-shirt as he spoke, using the fact that her attention was torn between the cooking and his sudden need to profess his gratitude for a madman. His fingers danced in small circles against her skin. "I might not have the most attractive and intelligent witch I've ever met warming my bed."

Hermione's breathy moan echoed from the the tiles in the kitchen, and Severus smiled, edging his hands up to brush the undersides of her breasts, the skin softer and warmer there than on her stomach.

"I wouldn't be half as lucky now as I was before," he drawled the words in seductive tones with his lips close to her ear, knowing the effect his voice could have on his wife.

"Severus…" The longing evident in her voice overpowered the small bite of frustration in her tone.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his fingers chasing up the swell of her breasts to roll her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. His ministrations left her squirming and he couldn't help but grin against her curls.

"Never." She grabbed her wand and turned off the flames that licked at the pans on the hob, casting a statis charm on the entire stove and half the kitchen counter in one distracted wave. Then, she spun around his arms, forcing him to cease caressing her perfect breasts but moving her mouth firmly back into kissing range. "But you should know you are insufferable." She added, pressing a long, firm kiss against his lips.

He smiled into the feeling, allowing himself to luxuriate in the silky softness of her lips against his own, before pressing her against his lean body and deepening the kiss. She responded as she always did, with matching desire, snaking her tongue out to flick against his top lip.

Severus couldn't help but devour her. He picked her up and deposited her on the counter, shoving the scales and chopping board to the side roughly. He ran his hands up and down her legs, revelling in the _feel_ of her.

He was so damned lucky he could scarcely believe it.

Severus Snape had never expected to survive the war, let alone be honoured as a war hero, nor be married to a clever vixen. But here was the proof that dreams really did come true.

"Sweetheart," he panted, breaking free of the kiss and resting his forehead against hers. His erection pressed painfully against his trousers as his witch was using her nimble fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Are you sure we have time?"

"Severus, if you beg off now, I will personally slip a babbling brew into your glass of wine when we have dinner with my parents," Hermione scolded, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt to draw him closer to her, opening her legs so that he stood between them.

The Potions Master smiled wickedly, satisfied that he had once again driven his wife into a distracted state of desire and kissed his way up her neck to her ear lobe. Gently, oh so gently, he took it between his lips and sucked it into his mouth, his teeth just grazing the sensity flesh.

Hermione gasped, her toes curling even as her hair seemed to spark and frizz with pleasure.

"Severus…" She moaned. "Please…"

He nipped it between his teeth and felt her body react, her mouth falling open in a perfect, wordless, "oh."

"If this is truly what you want..." He rubbed the fabric of her t-shirt between his fingers before drawing it up her body inch-by-inch, teasing her with the wait as more and more of her body was exposed to him.

"Now," she growled and Severus lifted his witch up and flew them both across the tiled floor to the more forgiving bedroom. She chased kisses across his face and down his neck, nearly distracting him to the point that he flew into the closed door but Severus only squeezed her closer.

This was his paradise and he would spend the rest of his life making sure it was hers too.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for everyone who has been along for the ride, reading the story and sending me love and support, reviews and follow. You have made this an absolute joy to explore.

Thanks especially go to **LumosLyra** who has been my cheerleader. Writers don't expose this side of themselves much, but really we are a bundle of needy neuroses and self-doubt, and Lyra does a great job of reading through my scrawlings and 5 am emails to tell me that she thinks the chapter is publishable and _not_ the worst thing I've ever written, and no I shouldn't give up on writing.

So if you enjoyed this story, send love to Lyra.

Also Vixen, an irl friend who, when they found out I was writing this, demanded to read it and sent regular missives telling me how good they thought it was.

Finally, pat yourselves on the back, dear reader, for without your returns for more of The Chit, I would no doubt have given up after Chapter 5! It would have been impossible to complete without you.

Here's to you. *raises cup of tea*. You're the best.


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